


The Deckhand and The Dagger

by flipperbrain



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Male Slash, Minor Character Death, Smut, Smutty Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-04-05 03:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 47,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14035311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipperbrain/pseuds/flipperbrain
Summary: Dark Hook reveals his greatest weakness to Deckhand Jones. With some love, a little sex and perhaps a hint of adventures yet to come.





	1. Chapter 1

Hook knew he would need to explain the existence of the dagger to Jones eventually, but now he fears that continuing to avoid the issue could put the deckhand in danger and he decides to broach the subject after a late supper this evening. Jones has seen it of course, Hook carries it with him always when venturing away from the Jolly Roger and since their foray to Agrabah, they have stopped for provisions several times. Hook can do much with his magical powers but real fruit, cheeses, vegetables and meats are readily available at port and he wants his love to be happy and healthy, so he has made a point to procure items that not only put a smile on his deckhand’s face but keep his body strong and well nourished.

He has also developed an affinity for a certain liquor that can only be found in small quantities on a remote tropical isle, he despairs over the deckhand’s allergy to rum, his true favorite amber liquid. Unfortunately they found out the hard way that when he partakes they cannot kiss without the deckhand’s lips swelling painfully, and the lack of this pleasurable activity is wholly unacceptable, so he has turned to another flavor of alcohol that they can both enjoy. Tipsy lovemaking being one of life’s greatest joys in Hook’s opinion. They will however, soon need to set sail in order to replenish their supply and the island on which it is distilled is a haven for the most treacherous miscreants on earth…

Hook sighs then sniffs the air breathing in the scent of roasting meat wafting out of the ship’s mess, the deckhand takes great pride in occasionally creating and serving meals and he is an excellent cook. On most days Hook will simply whip up lunch or dinner magically, but his fare while filling, lacks a certain je ne sais quoi. Jones adds life to his food, simple but beautifully seasoned and always pairing wonderfully with a glass of fine wine. His stomach grumbles with hunger and anticipation then clenches as he contemplates exposing his greatest weakness to his love. He trusts Jones implicitly and with his life, there is no fear whatever that he would use the dagger against him for any reason, but his knowledge of it may create a burden that Hook would rather not impose on him… but it cannot be helped. He must know.

He smiles upon hearing Jones call for him and disappears in a cloud of red smoke.

——————

The deckhand sits waiting on the edge of the bunk in their quarters and grins when Hook appears, the serving dishes have been set out and now he is ready to watch the show that is about to begin. Hook chuckles and kisses his lips then perches next to him and with a gesture the cupboard doors open and a brocade table runner flies out like a magic carpet, hovers then floats down onto the table. China plates and bowls dance out from the shelves, twirling in the air and criss-crossing in intricate patterns then the crystal stemware joins them, twinkling in the lantern light; they clink gently together before all of the pieces settle into place.

Hook waves his hand and a drawer opens, spoons, knives, forks and cloth napkins circle the cabin, spinning and spiraling toward the table until they take their assigned positions one by one, then a bottle of Bordeaux and a flask of water drift into the room, they tip to fill their glasses then stand their post at the end of the table. A finger snap and the candelabra flares alight, the lantern dims and supper is ready to be enjoyed. Jones laughs joyfully as Hook stands, bowing with a flourish then reaches for his lover’s hand. The deckhand springs up and embraces his Captain, kissing his soft lips and looking into his eyes with such devotion that Hook has to fight an urge to forget the delicious food and ravage his sailing companion instead. But alas, much effort has gone into this meal and conversation needs to occur, physical affection will have to wait.

——————

They take their seats and eat and drink heartily while Jones talks animatedly about the details of the meal, the strange unfamiliar bird he saw today roosting atop the mainsail and the book of poetry he has been reading by an author not previously known to him, so beautiful and heartrending…

Hook smiles at him, understanding his appreciation for Shelley and recites:

_The fountains mingle with the river,_  
_And the rivers with the ocean;_  
_The winds of heaven mix forever_  
_With a sweet emotion;_  
_Nothing in the world is single;_  
_All things by a law divine_  
_In another’s being mingle–_  
_Why not I with thine?_

_See, the mountains kiss high heaven,_  
_And the waves clasp one another;_  
_No sister flower could be forgiven_  
_If it disdained its brother;_  
_And the sunlight clasps the earth,_  
_And the moonbeams kiss the sea;–_  
_What is all this sweet work worth,_  
_If thou kiss not me?_

Jones eyes shine in the candlelight as he listens to Hook’s tenor voice speak this verse from memory. He pauses to let the words ring out before answering ‘Your kiss was my first and I pray the feel of your lips against mine will be my last perfect moment on earth’. Hook’s expression turns pained and he closes his eyes, his companion’s response to his recitation has the unintended effect of reminding him that the love of his life is a mortal man, and that one day they will be forever separated. Jones instantly wishes he could take back his words, and moves quickly to kneel at Hook’s side and lay his head on his lap. ‘I am so sorry, I spoke without thinking though I mean every word. Each minute spent with you is a gift to be savored’.

They have talked about this before, it is a reality that they both understand clearly and one that Hook has considered at length. Since Pan’s demise Neverland has lost much of its power to sustain life indefinitely, living out their days on the island might slow the deckhand’s aging process but will not stop it altogether. The other option would be to rid himself of the darkness that resides within him so they could grow old together, but at this moment he does not know how to accomplish this task without ending his life as well. He sighs heavily and strokes the deckhand’s hair then lifts his chin with his fingers and says unconvincingly ‘I will find a way my love, worry not.’

——————

’I have something to share with you,’ Hook says as he stands, his face turning serious ‘I should have told you long ago but I wanted to protect you, but now is as good a time as any I suppose.’

He walks to the safe in the corner of the cabin and removes his hook, then using the blunt end as a key he unlocks the small door and reaches inside to retrieve the dagger.

‘You have seen this attached to my belt when we travel away from the ship?’ He asks holding it parallel to the floor so Jones can see it clearly.

The deckhand nods, yes he has seen it and wondered about it. Hook always wears his sword and this dagger seemed ornamental and less than helpful in a fight. Jones assumed it was like a piece of jewelry, a shiny decoration that completes the Dark One effect when moving amongst the population. He has never thought to question Hook’s clothing, he can dress and adorn himself as he chooses. Nor has Hook ever remarked on his own garments other than preferring they were on the floor in a heap rather than hanging upon his body. Jones smiles at this train of thought then returns his attention to Hook as he continues.

’This dagger tethers me to the darkness and it can control me. It is also the only object that can take my power and… kill me,’ Jones gasps, his heart leaps into his throat and he starts to speak but Hook holds up his hand to stop him ‘it is vitally important that it be kept safe here on the ship or on my person. Should anyone take possession of it, I could become a powerful weapon of destruction and death regardless of my will otherwise.’

‘If I should ever become incapacitated for any reason, _you_ must retrieve this dagger by any means necessary and hide it where it cannot be found. Do you understand?’ Jones nods, his expressive eyes wide with fear and trepidation as he watches Hook return the dagger to the safe and lock it securely inside. ‘But what if I _cannot_ retrieve it? What if I am wounded or worse and unable to help you?’ Jones asks in a panicked voice, tears filling his eyes.

——————

‘You, my love, are far more capable and resourceful than you realize. You _can_ and _will_ do what needs to be done, even if that means living on without me. This ship is yours as well as mine and your escape route should you need one.’ Hook answers quietly.

‘I cannot live without you, I would die by your side,’ the deckhand states adamantly, stomping his foot for good measure.

Hook shakes his head ’No, you will not. But let us not dwell upon it now, it is something I have lived with for many years and is unlikely to be a concern for you’ Hook says softly then crosses the room and takes the deckhand in his arms, kissing the worry from his brow and tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. He transports them both to the deck and creates a soft cozy nest of pillows and blankets and they lay holding each other under the night sky. Hook waves his hand and the volume of poetry appears before them then he conjures a flame that floats in the air for light. ‘Please read aloud my sweet, tomorrow we will start afresh armed with knowledge and make a plan to ensure our safety,’ his hand stroking soothingly up and down the curve of Jones’ back as he speaks. The deckhand reads until his eyelids are heavy and he falls asleep in Hook’s arms.

——————

Jones wakes with a start several hours before dawn and finds himself naked but still nestled in the soft cocoon on deck with Hook’s warm body pressed tightly against him. He slept fitfully with worry, this new weapon and the danger it presents has made him fearful, but he must face it with courage he thinks, clenching his jaw with determination. Not long ago his life was so different and out of his control and though there may be challenges ahead, loving and being loved is a welcome state of being and he will not give that up. He turns in Hook’s arms knowing he is awake and only resting his eyes beside him and meets his blue-eyed gaze with his own.

Jones touches Hook’s face, his thumb stroking his cheek ’For as long as we have been together on this ship you have protected and cared for me, given me sanctuary and happiness and love,’ Jones says shyly ‘I am proud that you with all your power would depend on and trust me as I trust you,’ Jones leans into him needing to be close, his fingers combing through his lover’s hair.

Their eyes are open, each drinking in the beauty of the other when their lips meet tenderly pressing then brushing back and forth with silky softness. The deckhand’s tongue reaches out first to trace Hook’s lips, tasting a hint of almond from the nightcap he must have sipped before settling in to rest, then slips between them to probe and lick and explore. Hook moans as the kiss deepens, his tongue meeting and gliding along his lover’s relishing his sweetness and feeling his desire growing below, his arms encircle his companion’s waist, dragging his hips nearer and grinding against him. Neither of them wish to waste a single moment and they kiss until their lips are plump and cherry red, their bodies flush, legs tangling together as if there were no tomorrow.

——————

Hook rolls his lover onto his back, his head dips to kiss and suck a trail of marks along his neck as his hand moves between the deckhand’s legs, sliding into the cleft of his cheeks to rub and caress and work him open with his fingertips. His mouth drifts lower through the hair on his muscled chest until he finds a nipple to tug and bite almost to the point of pain, soothing it with his tongue then biting again. Jones’ back arches and he groans with pleasure, his eyes squeezed shut as Hook moves across his chest to suck and bite the other nipple until it’s erect and swollen.

Jones’ eyebrows arch sweetly with passion, his mouth uttering soft sighs and moans as Hook’s fingers push inside, his magic pulses in warm waves through the deckhand’s body causing his hair to stand up on end and his skin to tingle deliciously. Their eyes connect ‘Kiss me,’ Jones says breathlessly and Hook complies, the touch of his lips completing the circuit, his magic flowing through them both, electricity arcing between them. Jones reaches down and takes Hook in his hand his thumb swirling his tip then grasping his length and stroking firmly.

Their bodies float upward fused together in love’s embrace and glowing like a star, their hands pleasuring each other, magic sparking and sizzling over their skin until they both cry out in unison, their orgasms pouring out onto each other then spilling into the sea. Jones looks down at the deck of his home now far below them and grins as they drift toward it like feathers in the wind. They sink into the plush nest of fabric and curl together their chests still heaving, Hook lifts the deckhand’s chin with his fingers and looks into his eyes then says with conviction, ’I will find a way my love, worry not.’


	2. The Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook begins to take steps toward his goal and the deckhand discovers the devil in the details.

Jones knows he is behaving childishly but he does not care, he is bored and feeling cooped up as he watches Hook scribble away at his desk. His Captain has been focused on several parchments all afternoon and he promised him a lesson in swordplay this day. He is proud of his developing skill, he was actually able to knock the blade from Hook’s hand during their last sparring session though he understands his partner has yet to unleash his true competence with a sword, instead increasing his attacks and technique as he improves. 

He is heartened by the knowledge that Hook is a true master and fights with an artistry that other men could only hope to achieve, facing an ordinary opponent in a duel is far less daunting now and he is much more confident that should he meet a real foe, he has a chance at not only surviving, but winning.

And since learning of the dagger he is even more anxious to study, should he ever be required to defend his love he must be prepared.

The deckhand swooshes his sword back and forth through the air, lunging and thrusting his blade into an imaginary enemy then glancing at Hook over his shoulder with a grin on his lips. Hook looks up at him from under his eyebrows and returns his quill to the well, then leans back in his chair and sighs ‘Perhaps take some sunshine my love? I will honor my promise to teach you but these documents are quite important and I must finish them. I will join you on deck in one hour and we can begin.’

‘But what are you writing?’ Jones asks craning his neck to see.

Hook covers the parchment with another sheet of blank paper, blocking the deckhand’s view, ’I vow to share them when they are complete, I will not keep secrets from you again.’ He reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws his spyglass ‘Here, take this on deck, perhaps you will sight land. We have some business to attend to in the morning at the port city of San Sebastián. We can wander the streets and see the sights then perhaps enjoy a draught together, would that please you?’

Jones smiles and nods with excitement then tilts his head, ‘What business?’ He asks innocently, knowing Hook will not bend to his prying.

Hook laughs then stands and crosses the room, he gives the deckhand a chaste kiss on his mouth and hands him the glass ‘One hour, then brace yourself for a sound thrashing’ he says grinning devilishly. He grasps Jones shoulder and turns him about, nudging him toward the ladder that leads outside, ’Now off with you.’

———————

The deckhand sullenly climbs the ladder but his spirits lighten significantly when he steps out onto the deck, it is a beautiful warm sunny day at sea. He strides toward the bow, the wind blowing against his face as he scans the horizon. Calm waters under a cloudless sky, he can see for miles with his naked eyes and observes a land mass far off in the distance. He has never been to this city so tomorrow will be a new adventure, he wonders about  _this business that needs attending,_  what could it be?

He extends the spyglass and peers through it, the area now enlarged in his sight. Mountainous terrain stretching far to the left and right, tiny shapes clustered together that he supposes must be buildings and very likely many residents roaming and going about their daily lives. He will need to be on his guard and alert to any who might have malicious intentions. 

No matter what Hook may say, he would give his life without a thought to save his friend and would rather die than live without him. He endured much abuse throughout his years as a sailor but it was all he knew. To lose his love then serve another Captain? Not to mention regardless of his circumstance, it is probable that he would be charged with desertion and hanged if he went back to the Royal Navy. 

No.

He has experienced true joy since they met, returning to his previous existence is inconceivable. 

The deckhand sweeps the glass across the surrounding sea then swings it back toward the ship, first inspecting the magnified wooden planks at his feet then the ropes neatly looped around the large pegs that line the railing. He moves upward over the massive sails billowing out with the wind that carries them to their destination, until he spots the strange bird he saw the day before atop the mainsail.

———————

What odd coloring it has, blue and green and violet plumage with a red ruff at its neck. It cocks its head and looks back at Jones, its black eye staring directly at him. He sets the glass aside and dashes below deck to the ship’s mess for a crust of bread, then returns and begins to climb the rigging, careful to create as little motion as possible as to not scare away his feathered friend.

He ascends up, and up, and up until he reaches the crow’s nest, pausing to take in the magnificent view then peeks sideways at the bird hopping along the yard. Jones clucks his tongue and holds out the bread in its direction ‘Hello strange bird,’ he says quietly, ‘Take this bite of food, I will not harm you.’ He coos and entreats for many minutes, coaxing the animal to come nearer until it finally hops onto the railing surrounding the platform on which he stands. It stretches its neck to accept the treat, pinching it between the jaws of its beak then gulping it down. Jones grins broadly as he watches the bird swallow his offering then to his great surprise it flaps its wings and flies up to settle on his finger, its tiny claws wrapping around it like a twig.

The deckhand’s eyebrows arch with happiness ‘How nice to meet you my friend, where have you come from we are far from land… have you been a secret stowaway?’ Jones whispers at it sweetly. The bird warbles out a song then its head swivels sharply, turning to look piercingly at him _’The darkness cannot be defeated’_ it says in an low-pitched otherworldly voice then bites his hand, its wings begin flapping furiously and it lunges toward his face. Jones shouts in pain, his arms going up instinctively to protect his eyes; he lurches backward and the railing behind him gives way. He screams for Hook and claws at the rigging, desperately trying to stop his descent but to no avail, his body tumbles and plunges downward onto the decking below.

He hears and feels a bone snap in his arm on impact, and his head slams hard against the planks despite his attempts to break his fall. His breath is knocked out and he lays gasping like a fish out of water.

———————

Hook has just fastened his sword to his belt for their lesson when he hears the deckhand cry out for him, with a gesture he is instantly transported to the deck to find him lying at the base of the mainmast in a heap. Hook utters a terrified bark and runs frantically to kneel beside him, Jones groans in pain his mouth frozen in a grimace, his arm is bent at an unnatural angle and is very obviously broken. Blood pours from his brow and trickles from his ear, trails of crimson pool along his nose and run down the side of his face.

“My love, can you hear me?’ Hook beseeches

He responds with barely noticeable nod. Thank the God’s he is still alive, Hook thinks choking back panic and tears, his heart hammers inside his chest with both fear and relief. He touches Jones shoulder with trembling fingers and tells him to be still then closes his eyes and breathes deeply. His hand moves over the deckhand’s body emitting a beam of healing magic, closing his head wounds and knitting his bones back together again. He passes over his entire form to ensure any unseen injuries have been tended, then gathers the deckhand in his arms and transports them both to their quarters.

Jones is wobbly with shock and Hook helps him onto the bunk then quickly fetches a damp cloth to wipe away the blood from his face. He stretches out beside him, stroking his hair and soothing his brow with his lips. ‘What happened?’ Hook asks, his stress causing him to speak more loudly than he intended, ‘you are as sure footed on the rigging as any man I have ever seen.’ And this is true. Hook has watched him scamper up the ropes with ease many times and without fear. Jones enjoys the view aloft and the occasional solitude that comes with it, sometimes carrying a book in his pocket or a length of string to occupy him, his legs dangling over the base of the lookout as he daydreams.

———————

The deckhand blinks several times trying to make sense of the events that have just occurred, he relates the story of trying to befriend the strange bird he had mentioned the night before ‘then… it  _spoke_  to me,’ he says, still not completely believing his own ears.

‘What?!’ Hook asks, sitting up with a start, alarmed by Jones’ words ‘What did it say to you?’

‘It said  _the darkness cannot be defeated_  then it attacked me. The railing gave way and I fell.’ Jones flexes his elbow, his eyes wide with upset. ’That railing was sound. I have checked it myself and leaned upon it countless times.' He shakes his head, still perplexed by its failure. 'Thank you for fixing me, I felt sure I had met my end. My head feels foggy and my arm, it is still a bit numb.’

’That feeling will pass in time my sweet… where was this bird? Atop the mainsail?’ Hook asks urgently trying to keep his voice level and not to cause further unease with his inquiry.

‘Yes, that is where I last saw it,’ The deckhand sighs heavily then closes his eyes, not sure whether he is more distraught over his fall and the subsequent damage to his body, or the rejection by an animal he was kind to. He realizes this is a ridiculous notion, the bird was clearly not what it seemed to be but it makes him sad nonetheless.

‘Rest love, your injuries should be fully healed by morning. Stay here, I shall return shortly,’ Hook says pointedly then disappears. He searches the ship for this malevolent fowl but it cannot be found. He is angry and worried, does this creature somehow know of his intentions? He casts a protection spell enveloping the ship with powerful magic, nothing can approach them now without his knowledge.

Hook stands at the helm deep in thought, rubbing his neck with his hand, his brow furrowed with concern. He is conflicted about whether to proceed with his mission, on the one hand he desires nothing more than to live out his days as a mortal man with Jones by his side, but were it not for his sorcery his love would still be writhing in pain or perhaps worse. He fears giving up his magic completely, though unsure if that will be the ultimate result. Others perform feats without this dark infection churning inside them, it may be possible to learn this skill as well. 

He is still jittery with fright and closes he eyes for a moment to calm himself. 

———————

Jones sits up feeling unusually fragile, Hook healed him but he suspects his injuries were quite serious. He walks over to the small looking glass that hangs on the wall across from the desk and inspects his face, a few flecks of blood still remain at the base of his nose. He notices the edges of parchment reflected in the mirror and turns to look at them, he knows he should wait for Hook but what is the worst they could be? Curiosity gets the better of him and decides to look quickly before his love returns.

When Hook reappears in their quarters the deckhand is standing by the desk holding one of the parchment leaves he had written earlier and set aside in a folio, tears stream down his face as he begins to read it aloud:

 

**_Last Will and Testament_ **

_Being of sound mind and body_  
_I do hereby bequeath_  
_all of my worldly goods and Treasure_  
_to include my ship, The Jolly Roger,_  
_my dwelling and lands at Tierra del Fuego_  
_and all contents therein_  
_to my companion and partner in life_  
_Able Seaman K. Jones_  
_To be settled irrevocably upon my death_  
_On this day the 12th of August, 1813_

_~ Captain Hook_

 

Jones looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes, crushed with grief ‘Is this the business we must attend to?' he demands, ' _Because I will hear about none of it!!_ ’ He tosses the paper aside and turns away, his shoulders slumped and shaking, his body racked with sobs.

Hook goes to him, wrapping his arms around his love and speaks softly against his hair ‘Oh my dearest heart, I would have preferred to explain this to you in a gentler way but that opportunity has passed. Please do not cry, it is merely a protection for you should anything happen. It is important to me that you have no worries about your future,’ he says urging the deckhand to turn and face him, and he does. 

‘I have no plans to die,’ he declares wiping the tears from Jones’ cheeks with his thumb.

‘Today has been frightening and traumatic, you are still healing and need further rest. The bird is gone and I have made sure it will not return.’ Hook reassures him quietly.

He tenderly kisses Jones’ eyelids then moves to capture his full lips between his own, savoring their softness and tasting the salt from his tears. He helps his lover undress and tucks him into bed ‘Sleep my love, when you wake we will dine and forget what happened this day, tomorrow will be brighter.’ 

Jones sniffles and nods ‘You must not leave me,’ he laments then closes his eyes, his lips still quivering with sorrow. Hook sits beside him searching his tear-stained face until his breathing is shallow and even, then returns to the deck to keep watch.

He must be vigilant from now on.

 

 


	3. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook and the deckhand discuss their future and encounter complications.

Hook contemplates the events of the day as Jones rests, he has pledged to keep no more secrets and will tell him of his aspirations this evening. The deckhand is unfortunately, already acquainted with the inherent dangers they present; once entirely abreast and primed with knowledge, he may choose his own path. By protecting his love he has exposed him to peril, he cannot defend himself against a hazard that is unknown to him.

Hook hangs his head and squeezes his eyes closed at the wretched memory of his love lying broken and bleeding on the deck of their ship, sickened by that image in his mind, frightened and ashamed that Jones could be a target due to his own selfish desires.

He is wholly changed by his love for his companion, not remembering a time in all of his years that he felt such abject terror and despair. The decision to keep him here on this ship was a pivotal moment for them both, their lives are now inextricably connected. He cannot leave him behind and unsafe, that his loss would be the ruination of Hook’s life notwithstanding; he knows with certainty that without Jones, the darkness would finally consume him. He hesitates to cause further upset, but it is a subject they must confront together.

——————

After a light repast he sits with Jones, expressing his aim to banish the darkness and in turn, his immortality. He shared his fears about the demon bird that attacked his love and how evil forces may be set to interfere with this pursuit, then talked of his concerns about relinquishing his magic and what this could mean; his ability to protect and heal them both could be limited at best, lost completely at worst. Their life together would be quite different without his sorcery to assist them.

He then presented his writings and other documents of importance; details and deeds to his holdings and treasure, a list of theories and speculations with any sources he could conceive of that might shed light on finding an antidote for the poison inside him. Lastly, a letter to the Admiral of the Fleet, strongly suggesting with the promise of gold and veiled threats of personal harm, that Jones be formally released from service. Should any outstanding questions remain as to the deckhand’s whereabouts they should be directed to him, Captain Hook otherwise known as the Dark One, indicating that he would await a reply with restless impatience.

Jones was wide-eyed at his bravado and timidly asked if he thought this was wise. ‘Bribery and intimidation can accomplish much in life, my sweet’ Hook answered pragmatically, confident that an agreement would soon be reached. The deckhand’s freedom being ever-present in his thoughts, should he be absent and unable to shield him, it is imperative his love have somewhere to go without risk of military justice coming down upon his head. This letter shall be posted on the morrow, and a second copy of his aforementioned Will to be witnessed and filed with the local Magistrate court, officially sealed and set in stone… assuming Jones consents to all of this of course.

Because without his partnership, none of it matters.

‘My love, I wish to grow old as a mortal man, and to live without this darkness that eats away at my humanity with each passing day. To sail the sea or live out our days on land unrestrained, to do whatever we choose,’ he says then takes Jones’ hand and holds it against his heart ‘I yearn to sleep again… with you beside me. Will you join me in my quest?’

——————

Jones listens intently and with sympathy as his lover speaks and explains his thinking, vaguely surprised by his sudden urgency but not entirely shocked by his words. The effects of the darkness is not a new worry, it tortures and torments him in ways he cannot understand. He dreams of the day when his Captain will be free from its grasp; he supposes the bird was an omen and a catalyst to either advance or concede, and Hook is not one to capitulate without a fight. The deckhand pauses a moment to gather his thoughts when his Captain sighs heavily and casts his gaze at the floor ‘Perhaps you could not love me if I were merely… ordinary.’ Hook says bleakly.

The deckhand’s brows knit together and he stands with arms akimbo, irked that the man he adores with all of his heart could harbor such ideas ‘That I could not _love_ you? I cannot _live_ without you!’ He shakes his head with exasperation, then softens and reaches for Hook’s hand, pulling him onto his feet and into his warm embrace. ’I see clearly who you are, you are _extra_ ordinary. And I will love you until I draw my last breath,’ he leans back, his eyes searching Hook’s face, ‘Do you not know my feelings for you are so strong, that they steal my breath and cause me physical pain?’

‘I am sorry my sweet, I do not doubt your affection… only my worth,’ Hook replies ruefully.

‘Well doubt it no more. Your proposal is not a flight of fancy, it is necessary for your continued well-being and I would do _anything_ to ensure that,’ Jones says quietly, stroking the line of Hook’s jaw with his thumb, his eyelids are heavy with fatigue from his earlier ordeal. ‘I am still tired my dearest, I nearly perished this day if you recall,’ he says with a lopsided grin ‘Will you lie down with me?’

Hook looks pained then smiles at him, they undress without further conversation and curl together on the bunk like nested spoons until Jones drifts off to sleep.

——————

When the deckhand wakes early the next morning his body is buzzing and tingling with energy, the effects of Hook’s healing magic has filled him with vigor and he is aroused to the point of discomfort. He reaches down to touch himself gingerly and groans, then turns his head to find Hook’s place at his side empty and cold. He sits up and calls out to him ‘My love, where are you?!’ and in a moment Hook appears, ‘What is it my sweet, are you not well?’ He asks frowning with concern.

Jones throws back the covers, revealing his desire for him and holds out his hand with silent invitation. Hook removes his clothing with haste, leaving them crumpled on the floor and climbs onto the mattress and into his arms. ‘You are feeling much better I see,’ Hook says grinning, his hand smoothing the hair on his lover’s chest then gliding over his ribs to rest at his waist. The deckhand looks into his eyes, his fingers combing through the dark curls at the nape of his neck ‘I love you so,’ he whispers then pulls him closer to feel the touch of his lips, soft and full against his own.

Jones moans as Hook takes him in hand, wrapping his fingers around his thickness and stroking him gently as they kiss. Their mouths slant across each other, tongues reaching out to probe and explore as Hook’s thumb swirls his tip, spreading the wetness that has gathered there. He breaks the kiss to watch his lover’s face as his hand slides up and down; how his eyelids flutter and his mouth opens and closes, his neck arching and straining with passion and pleasure. He listens to his sighs and sounds and his quiet pleas to never stop loving him.

His heart swells at Jones’ pure declarations and his sweet sincerity, how fortunate he is to have found such a person to share his life with. He tightens his grip and quickens his pace and the deckhand opens his eyes, the bluest-blue pools of devotion looking back him. His hips jerk and buck in rhythm with Hook’s movements until he reaches down to stop him, then sits up to whisper what he craves in his lover’s ear. Hook smiles and nods, rolling onto his knees and leaning forward to rest on his elbows as Jones moves behind him.

The deckhand’s fingers rub and dip and stretch his lover open, he is throbbing with need and desperate to make him ready then push himself inside. Hook glances at him over his shoulder ’Now, love. Take me now,’ he entreats and Jones thrusts into him with a moan, knowing he will not last long. Hook’s hair hangs in his eyes as he strokes himself and rocks backward to meet Jones’ hips, swiveling and grinding, driving relentlessly against him. He clenches his muscles, squeezing as tightly as he can until with a keening cry Jones finds his release, pouring his orgasm into his dark lover, his body shaking and shuddering as he empties inside. Hook finishes himself soon after, panting and grunting as he spills out onto the bedclothes. They both collapse onto the mattress, their foreheads pressed together until their breathing returns to normal.

——————

Hook smiles against Jones lips and says with regret ‘We must rise soon and tend to our business in the city, unforeseen events have occurred that will alter our itinerary, but what a wondrous way to start an adventure. I love you my sweet.’

‘What events?’ Jones asks, his eyebrows arching with curiosity

‘You will see soon enough, my love,’ Hook answers

The deckhands opens his mouth to question this reply then thinks better of it, willing to wait and not inquire further.

With a wave of Hook’s hand, the evidence of their sex is cleaned away and they stand to prepare for their journey. The temperature is quite warm so Jones chooses light colored breeches a white blouse and an ivory vest, his sword buckled high on his hip. Hook removes the dagger from the safe and attaches it to his belt; he is dressed in his signature black of course, the heat does not affect him in the same way, though Jones doubts he would change his manner of dress if it did. He is stunning in any garb, but when fully costumed in leather from head to toe, he is magnificent and Jones could not be more proud to stand at his side.

When they appear on deck with documents in hand, the deckhand is taken aback. Hook has weighed anchor far from shore and at least a dozen ships of war lie between them and their goal.

‘We arrived here in the dark of night, the city appears to be under siege,’ Hook remarks with a sigh, ‘Our ship is known and protected by magic, she will be safe. This does present an opportunity however, that I will use to my advantage before dispatching these ships from the bay. Clearing the city is another matter and will take longer than I care to spend, we will attend to our business quickly and stroll through the streets on another day.’

——————

Jones’ eyes widen with fear ‘Perhaps we should wait?’ He asks, his voice cracking with anxiety. Hook leans in for a kiss, ‘No love, we cannot. Have courage and stay close to me, I will protect you,’ he says then touches Jones shoulder and in a blink of an eye they appear on the deck of an unknown vessel, crowded with seamen ready for battle. The deckhand clutches the hilt of his sword, steeling himself for a fight, when with a gesture of Hook’s fingers the crew is frozen in place, all save one. ‘I would speak with your Captain,’ he commands, ’Go now and fetch him to me. Do not delay,’ he warns ominously.

Jones studies Hook’s face, focused and dark, his tone menacing and dangerous as he directs this sailor to do his bidding. He is a Captain through and through and will brook no refusal. The crewman nods and scurries below deck, returning minutes later with the Captain in tow. ‘What is the meaning of this?!’ He booms before fully comprehending the situation.

Hook waves his hand dismissively, ’What is your name?’ He barks, his brows furrowed with annoyance.

‘My name is Captain William Parker, and who Sir are _you_? He answers angrily, opening his jacket and reaching for the pistol tucked into the waistband of his breeches. Hook rolls his eyes then crooks his finger and the pistol disappears, ‘I am your worst nightmare,’ he retorts, ‘I do not wish to fight you, but I will if you give me no choice… and you will lose, my friend.’ Captain Parker scans his crew now paralyzed and unable to move, abruptly aware of his predicament. He takes a step backward, recognizing the man who stands before him ‘What do you want Dark One?’ He quips, unsuccessfully attempting to mask his fear with disdain.

‘Here are my terms,’ Hook says handing the Captain a sealed envelope and a pouch of gold coins from the pocket of his coat ‘You will personally deliver this gold and this letter directly into the hands of the Admiral of the Fleet. If you do not I will find you and I vow you will be severely aggrieved by the outcome. Do you understand?’ The Captain considers for a moment then nods curtly in agreement.

’Now leave this place. Spread the word quickly or your vessel and the fleet will rest at the bottom of the sea.’ Hook clenches his fist and the ship trembles and quakes beneath their feet, the deckhand staggers and stumbles trying to regain his balance as the deck rolls back and forth. ’Do not question my power to do so,’ he grits out ‘You have three hours.’

Hook releases the crew then turns to Jones and touches his hand, they appear an instant later in a secluded corner in The Parte Vieja, at the center of the city. The deckhand realizes he has been holding his breath and inhales sharply with relief. ‘You are fearless,’ he says, sagging against him. Hook smiles and kisses the top of Jones’ head, ‘With lifetimes of practice my love, act as you wish to be perceived and your feelings will follow. Now let us find the court and be finished here.’

——————

Jones looks about him at the soldiers lining the fortified wall surrounding the city, their cannons and muskets trained on the ships floating in the bay. ‘Do you think the fleet will leave?’ he asks as they walk along the cobblestone street, passing many residents endeavoring to live normally in untenable circumstances. ’Yes,’ Hook replies ‘but they will return. The hubris of a King is not easily swayed… that my correspondence be carried to its recipient is my primary interest. Come, our destination lies ahead.’ He continues, pointing toward a large building on the top of a small hill at the end of the lane.

He pauses for a moment, slipping his arm around the deckhand’s waist and gazing at him with appreciation, his beautiful eyes and the wisps of hair softly framing his rosy-cheeked face. He would sail to the ends of the earth for this man, he thinks to himself. He gathers him in his arms, incapable of taking another step without kissing his mouth, and unashamed to openly proclaim his feelings to all who would see. Their lips press together for a moment in the shade of a large beech tree, the deckhand grins and blushes at Hook’s loving attention then looks down at his feet, scuffing the dirt with his toe.

Hook smiles broadly at his shy charm, then presses his hand gently against the small of his back to urge him forward. They enter the court of the Magistrate and exit some time after with their business complete. Hook breathes a sigh of contentment, Jones has been added to the title of his lands and property, and should he meet his end on their journey, the deckhand will be well set for the rest of his life.

’There is one more stop I desire to make,’ Hook says with a wink. They walk arm in arm retracing their steps until they reach a tiny shop with many interesting goods and unique items displayed in the window. ‘Wait here, love’ he whispers then steps inside. Jones peers through the glass, watching as Hook converses with the shopkeeper. Coins are exchanged and soon his Captain rejoins him with an oddly shaped oblong case tucked under his arm. ‘Shall we return to the ship?’ Hook asks, ‘A bite of food and a glass of wine would not go amiss’

‘Will you not tell me what you have purchased?!’ Jones asks nonplussed, he folds his arms and scrutinizes the strange object his lover is holding.

’No! It is a surprise my sweet, and a pleasant one I hope. Though it has been many years since I last held one so we shall see,’ he says laughing at Jones’ vexation. He drapes his arm over the deckhand’s shoulders and they disappear in a cloud of red smoke.


	4. The sound and the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook and Jones set sail for answers

Since leaving the besieged city of San Sebastián, they had decided together which theory to pursue first and would visit the witch Hook had heard rumor of years before in his travels. Acela was a name Jones remembered from his early days as a sailor, and had been mentioned with fear and hushed tones a few times since. Even the most grizzled amongst the crews he had served with would whisper her name with deference and respect, telling stories of her boundless powers to whip the winds and raise the waves. Any who dared sail close to her island, risked wrecking on the jagged rocks that surround it.

Sea depths are unpredictable near any small isle, shoals are a menace and running aground can occur for many reasons, poor navigation or foggy conditions being two of the most obvious; but superstition runs rampant on ships at sea, and the tales whether false or true, were too numerous to dismiss altogether.

Hook had been told long ago, that Acela was a magical chimera, possessing both light _and_ dark magic and could summon either at will. It meant nothing to him at the time, but now he prays this witch will offer him insight, and perhaps provide some hint as to how he might conquer the darkness inside him. How does she manage the opposing forces within her? Was she born with this skill or did she gain this talent later in life? Whether she will allow him to pose these and other questions remains to be seen.

And now they sail toward peril in search of answers.

——————

Jones draws an X on the makeshift calendar of days he created that hangs in the ship’s mess, marking off another each night to keep track. Six weeks my love, to cross the sea and reach our next port of call, Hook said. It has been fourteen days since they took on provisions to sustain them throughout their voyage: rice, peas, dried corn, sacks of beans, various fresh and salted meats and fish. Flour for biscuits, breads and gravies; several large casks of oil for cooking and frying. A variety of cheeses and of course copious amounts of wine, a large barrel of ale and a keg of brandy.

The deckhand laughed as Hook pointed out and paid for these intoxicants, ‘Do we require so much?’ He asked with a grin. ‘Have you crossed an ocean my love?’ Hook asked in response, ‘when drifting a thousand leagues from any shore, a strong draught can provide much comfort.’

They have had no time to pursue the other liquor that Hook prefers, the dangers posed by the inhabitants of that tropical locale seemed an unnecessary hazard to face for a small quantity of alcohol. Grog is a popular libation for life at sea, but the deckhand is unable to consume this beverage consisting of watered rum. Jones sighed with regret as they passed several bottles of his Captain’s favorite elixir set out at a market stall. Hook noticed his expression and reached for his hand, lightly squeezing his fingers with reassurance and said ‘Please do not give this another thought, my sweet. I would surrender all I possess for your kiss,’ then pressed his lips to Jones’ temple and whispered ‘I would surrender my body to you as well when we return to the ship this day.’

——————

The deckhand smiles to himself as he thinks of Hook’s affectionate gaze and his lusty murmurings. He is not shy about expressing his desires, sometimes causing him to blush with embarrassment. Jones stirs the sauce that simmers on the brick hearth then closes his eyes, imagining the weight of his body against him and the touch of his hand, the sensation when he pushes inside and fills him completely. He opens his eyes and returns to awareness, then jumps slightly when Hook suddenly appears behind him, his arms encircling his waist. ‘How fares our supper?’ He asks, breathing against the deckhand’s neck; his fingers push the fabric of his blouse aside and his lips drift down to kiss his shoulder. ‘It is ready, Sir,’ Jones replies with a grin and leans against him. 

Hook snaps his fingers to extinguish the small fire that burns in the stove, then stops before transporting the serving dishes to their quarters. ‘Perhaps we should begin to accustom ourselves to a life without magic,’ he says, grasping the handle of the water jug and looking at his love with the question on his lips. Jones nods then takes a tray from the shelf and places the dishes upon it, then deftly balancing it on his palm, they walk together through the narrow aisle toward their cabin.

They have made a rule that the conversation while dining will remain light and without reference to the mission ahead, reserving those times for joy and laughter, and the enjoyment of delicious food, fine wine and good company. ’Tomorrow I insist on a lesson in swordplay,’ Jones says firmly, ‘I stand ready to defeat you, yet you cower from my challenge,’ he continues, the corners of his mouth curling into a sly smile. Hook’s face pantomimes shock, his hand fluttering to cover his heart, then his eyes narrow, ‘I think perhaps you have had too much wine my sweet,’ and he leaps from his chair to chase the deckhand around and around the desk. He feints left, then right moving swiftly to capture him in his arms and taste his lips.

‘Play for me, my love,’ Jones whispers against his mouth.

——————

The deckhand had discovered the contents of the strange oblong case, the evening following their visit to the city. He had grudgingly waited until darkness fell for Hook to share his surprise with him, his eyes darting toward it propped in the corner throughout their evening meal. Hook finally yielded and picked up the object, setting it gently on the desk he unlatched the cover and opened it, it’s hinges stiff and in need of oiling.

‘A fiddle!!’ Jones said bouncing with glee, his eyes lit up with happiness and anticipation.

‘Yes love, a violin,’ Hook replied, his fingers tenderly gliding over its maple shell, ‘Will you assist me in securing the bow to my hook?’ He asked smiling at Jones’ excitement ‘It has been a long time, I hope I will not disappoint you.’

Jones made a face and huffed at him as they worked together to affix the bow firmly in place. He tucked the instrument under his chin, propping the scroll on his hook as his fingers plucked and tuned, adjusting the pegs until he was satisfied with its harmony then handed it to Jones to hold for a moment. He waved his hand to transport them to the deck then conjured a dozen tiny floating points of light that hovered near the railing, softly lighting the stage. Jones returned the instrument then sat crossed-legged on the wooden planks to watch.

——————

The deckhand had listened while many a sailor had sawed out a tune, often late at night when the sea was calm and the threat of attack was low. The crew usually deep into their cups by that hour, would dance and sing many a sea shanty…

 _Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish Ladies,_  
_Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain;_  
_For we've received orders for to sail for ole England,  
_ _But we hope in a short time to see you again._

 _We will rant and we'll roar like true British sailors,_  
_We'll rant and we'll roar all on the salt sea._  
_Until we strike soundings in the channel of old England;  
_ _From Ushant to Scilly is thirty five leagues._

  
But what he had previously known was never like this. 

Hook drew the bow across the strings of the violin and it began to sing a melody so hauntingand so beautiful his eyes filled with tears, enraptured by its sound and his lover’s graceful performance; his fingers rapidly pressing the strings and moving along its neck, his bow arm dipping and lifting in concert to create a perfect refrain. The brightest tones and most melancholy strains flowing out like liquid to wrench his heart and grip his soul. Hook’s body swayed forward into a rising crescendo then leaned back as the tune diminished to a whispering sigh. Jones looked up at the stars above him, then closed his eyes, spellbound with wonder until the final notes of the sonata rang out and blew away with the wind.

He wept softly having had no idea that such sublime music existed on this earth… 

…And this night was no different, a new song perhaps but his reaction the same. Thrilled and overcome with emotion, his eyes shining in the moonlight, his cheeks wet with tears. Hook smiled warmly at him, gratified that he could provide such bliss. He had given up and forgotten many things he once enjoyed, having no inclination or any ability for that matter to feel delight or experience true pleasure, only recently reminded that hope still remained. With a gesture the violin and the bow float in the air and begin to play a waltz on their own accord. Hook pulls Jones to his feet and they dance together, gliding and turning with the tempo until late into the night, then crawl into bed to rest contentedly in the arms of the one they love.

——————

Hook returns to the deck as the first light of morning appears on the horizon and studies its color. He frowns knowingly at the red streaks stretching out across the sky and the change in the wind, he looks up a the sails rippling and in search of direction.

A storm approaches.

His sorcery while vast, does not extend far enough to rule the weather and they spend the morning lashing down any large moveable objects and securing the cargo in the hold below. Hook trims the sails as the wind begins to gust in earnest, whitecaps form on the rough sea as the ship rides the waves and dips between the swells. By 10 o’clock thunderclouds roll toward them, lightning flashes in the distance and the rain begins to fall, an hour later they are engulfed in a tempest.

The Captain wrestles the wheel for hours with every once of strength in his body, working the sails with his magic and bracing himself against the gale. Huge waves, crash over the rail and recede with force, again and again. Jones struggles to stay upright at Hook’s side; drenched and cold to the bone, clutching the rigging with his hand. Another wave and rising swell, the ship lists backward and the deckhand is knocked off his feet and sucked toward the low rail at the stern. Hook clenches his fist, his magic preventing him from being washed overboard, and bellows that he tether himself to a safety line before he drowns, then fetch him a rope six feet in length.

Jones ties a line around his waist, he knows better than to rely on sure footing and luck, having witnessed too many sailors swept over the rail and left behind. The ship cannot return to rescue them in such conditions, and being lost at sea is not a fate he wishes to encounter first hand. He turns his back to the rain, driven sideways by the wind to measure and cut the piece, then works his way back to the helm. Hook loops the rope around the wheel and through a metal eyelet screwed into the wooden pedestal, knotting it tightly, then touches Jones shoulder and they disappear.

——————

Once again in the somewhat dry safety of their quarters he seals the hatch to keep out the pouring rain. A small lake has formed on the floor, soaking the rug and pooling around the bunk. Hook waves it away along with their dripping wet clothing and stands naked and scowling, his feet planted wide apart to steady himself as the ship rocks back and forth. ‘My love, I cannot fight this storm, work the sails, watch our course and save you from certain death _simultaneously_ ,’ he says angrily, ‘my magic is strong but I cannot divide my attention in so many ways, you _must_ take steps to ensure your own safety!’ He barks, shouting over the roar of the wind. He rakes his hand through his hair and shakes his head, irritated beyond words at Jones’ carelessness. He stalks over to the cabinet and pours himself a tall brandy then tosses it back, grimacing as it burns its way down his throat.

The deckhand hangs his head and looks at the floor, ‘I am sorry, it was foolish of me,’ he says quietly. Hook sighs heavily and goes to him, brushing aside the wet hair from his brow, ‘I know you are my sweet and I apologize for raising my voice, if anything happened to you I could _not_ endure it. _Please_ take care,’ he says patting Jones’ shoulder then begins to dress himself ’Now stay here love, while I return to battle. I would see you safe and out of harm's way. Perhaps a crust of bread can be found when I return?’ He remarks with a crooked smile then with a gesture he is gone.

——————

Jones dries himself and dons breeches and a soft blouse, then lights the lantern that swings from the ceiling. He sits on the edge of the bed watching the lightning flash through the windows, upset by Hook’s tone and remorseful at his own recklessness. He knows his love has little patience for negligence on deck, having made reference in the past to discipline when a member of his crew failed to heed his orders. His disregard for self-preservation was ill-advised and Hook lashed out at him in fear. But his angry words still sting. 

The deckhand is also prone to seasickness when the ship ceaselessly rolls and bucks, preferring to remain on deck in a storm, or at least venturing often to sight the horizon. Even the most seasoned sailor can succumb to this ailment when below deck in a blow. But now banished from view and sentenced to remain here in their cabin, he feels the nausea begin to creep over him; beads of sweat form on his brow as he strives to stave off his illness and will it into submission.

——————

In the wee hours of the morning Hook heaves a sigh of relief, they have sailed through the worst of it. Though the rain still falls in torrents, the wind is lessened and the sea has calmed enough to seek some food and shelter. He returns to the cabin to find the deckhand lying on the floor curled up in the corner of the room, having spent the last hours retching into the bucket beside him. Hook doffs his wet coat then bends to see about his love, he is positively green with sickness. Jones looks up at him through bleary eyes, ‘I regret that I could not prepare food for you,’ he says moaning weakly then drops his head to rest on the floor. 

‘Oh love, it matters not,’ Hook soothes quietly, contrite and ashamed that his earlier words were so harsh. He fetches a pillow and blanket to offer some comfort to Jones, understanding further movement, even crossing the room to the bed could trigger another bout. ’The waves have abated, you will soon feel better. Could you take a sip of water?’ He asks then dashes to pour a glass and hold it to the deckhand’s lips. He lifts his head and takes and tiny drink to wet his mouth, then nods in thank you. Hook disposes of the contents of the bucket then dampens a cloth and applies it to the back of his lover’s neck. 

What if this quest is too heavy a burden to place on the shoulders of this gentle soul, he wonders to himself. Hook craves the future he has dreamt of with every fiber of his being… and he is certain that Jones does as well. The deckhand would be annoyed by his doubts, they are both unwavering in their love for each other. He nibbles some bread and cheese, then stretches out beside his love to pet his hair and rest his eyes until daybreak.


	5. Memories and descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deckhand recounts his beginnings as Hook struggles against the darkness.

It is hot, windless and the surface of the sea is as still as glass. The storm raged on for three days and now the doldrums has Hook in a foul mood, they have been blown far off course and he currently has no idea of their exact position. He has taken measurements of the sun relative to the horizon with his sextant throughout the previous day, and now sets about making the complex calculations required to determine their approximate location. Maps and charts lay unfurled across the desk, his dividers and quill at the ready but he is distracted and unfocused. The temperature and lack of breeze has fueled his surliness. Unusually so. Hook generally has high tolerance for the heat on most days, but today he wears only a blouse and breeches, his sleeves rolled to his elbows as he stalks the deck.

Having not seen his companion for hours, Hook searched the ship before remembering Jones’ penchant for heights. He finally looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand and spotted the deckhand aloft with a book. Hook is struggling to keep the darkness at bay, its quest to consume him is a constant battle he fights, and he thinks perhaps the deckhand is better off separated from him at the moment. He knows Jones is still hurt, he has seen it in his eyes and by his lack of conversation, he vows to think twice before snapping again in anger. Right now however, it is all he can do to control his rage at nothing in particular. It seethes just below the surface, its voices urge him to break down and surrender; he feels the turmoil rising up inside and steels his will against it.

\----------

Jones has experienced his moods before and has taken a wide berth for the time being. He does not feel completely recovered from his bout of seasickness, and to be honest, while Hook did apologize for his angry words, the deckhand still feels their bite. He is well aware that his own carelessness prompted Hook’s anger but he felt punished like a errant child and not treated like the seasoned sailor that he is. Their relationship creates obstacles at times, to be on even footing in regard to their love and partnership yet Captain and crewman when tasks and duties are concerned, it can be a bitter pill to swallow.

Someone must take charge in times of emergency, and Hook has the blood of a Captain flowing through his veins and is certainly the best equipped to manage a crisis, but perhaps the language and tone could change. Jones has chosen to lick his wounds alone and has taken refuge on the lookout platform high atop the mainmast, having repaired the railing weeks ago. He climbed up early this morning with his breakfast of hardtack and salted pork, and _The Expedition of Humphry Clinker_ tucked into his pocket. Perhaps some levity and adventure will improve his outlook.

\----------

Several hours later, still immersed in the tale of the Bramble’s and their affiliation with Mr. Clinker as they travel through the English countryside, the deckhand is reminded of his humble beginnings in Gloucester. His parents and any family he knew of have been gone or their whereabouts unknown for many years, but he wonders to himself if one day he might return to the place of his birth. He remembers holding his father’s leathery hand as they walked toward some destination in town, he was in awe of the shops and the hustle and bustle around him.

When they reached a large building at the end of the lane, his father bent down and took his face in his hands and said that this was a school for boys, there would be friends to make and things to learn here. The edifice looked more like a large barracks than a school in his opinion, but at 6 years his wishes and wants did not figure into the decisions made for him. His father kissed his cheek and said ‘be a good boy’ and he never saw his family again.

He was fed and taught his letters but friendships were few and far between, he found early on that this was more a reform school than anything else, punishment swift and brutal for offenses real and perceived. Small and shy, and often bullied by the larger stronger ilk that resided there, he turned to the world of books and his own imagination to survive. That is until he met William in his third year, a red-haired freckled and funny young fellow they became fast friends and banded together, protecting each other from the rest as best they could. Jones smiles to himself thinking of him, their secret pacts and late night whispering… escape plans that never came to fruition.

Jones cared for him in a way he had not cared for another before. They were very young and while physical love was beyond his ken, his affection seemed perfectly natural to him; but their close friendship inexplicably made them a target to be rejected and reviled by the other boys. They weathered the storm of slurs and slander for three years, staying loyal and true until the summer of his twelfth year when William fell ill and succumbed to a fever. Jones had begged to sit at his bedside but the doctors feared the illness would spread, so he waited for days in the hall outside the infirmary for any word of his friend’s recovery.

The headmaster uncharacteristically merciful after delivering the news, left him to mourn in private. He was devastated by William’s death, that he had no opportunity to see him one last time and distraught over the prospect of living there alone. The hospital wing was located in a less secure area of the school and there was no guard at the door on this day… he saw a chance to slip outside and took it, then ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the docks. It was an idea they had cooked up together, he and William, they would escape and persuade a sea Captain to take them on as cabin boys then sail away from this place. Jones felt he must honor his friend by following through with their scheme, he convinced a First Mate that he was 14 years old without family and was taken aboard the HMS Allegiance, pressed into service for all intents and purposes, and his life at sea began.

It was a difficult existance, not at all the the merry enterprise they had imagined. At times his ears so boxed they bled from the abuse, he learned quickly to keep his head down and follow orders, stay low during a fight and remain unattached to those he served with. He never had the chance to properly grieve his loss, he closed himself off to feelings of sentiment and until Hook entered his life he could not fathom receiving kindness from someone or had any understanding of tender sexual satisfaction. How much the loving touch of another has healed his heart, that he can look back on his life without rancor and smile at the fond memory of his dear friend.

\----------

Jones looks down from his perch and notices Hook pacing back and forth on the deck below, his hand waving and gesturing in the air. Something is wrong, he feels it in his bones and now he regrets his petulance. To avoid his love and force him to bear this hardship alone, well, he is quite familiar with fending for himself without a care from another, and it is not pleasant. He secures the book in his pocket and begins to climb down the rigging, determined to mend fences and support his lover in his time of need. Navigation was never his purview but he is sure he can help in other ways. When Jones steps down off the ropes Hook is leaning against the rail, his fist clenched at his side, his shoulders slumped and weary.

‘Hook? Are you well?’ Jones asks tentatively as he approaches

Hook turns to him, black tears pour from his eyes, his cheeks smudged with the darkness that he has absently wiped away with the back of his hand. Jones’ eyes grow large at the sight of his face, his brows furrowed as though he were enraged yet his eyes blank and unseeing. ‘My God, what is wrong!?’ Jones asks then reaches out to touch his fist, magic flows into his fingers and through his arm causing it to instantly ache with pain but he does not let go and instead lifts his hand and holds it against his chest, the suffering coming off him in waves is nearly unbearable. ‘It is me my love, do you not know me?’ Jones says softly then clenches his teeth trying to withstand the dark onslaught.

He closes the distance between them hoping to absorb some of this anguish, dilute it perhaps by sharing its burden and circles Hook’s waist with his free arm and pulls him close. The deckhand trembles with agony as he looks into his lover’s eyes and kisses his lips, then an almost imperceptible change to recognition then confusion in his expression and the magic stops flowing. ‘Jones?’ Hook asks then he collapses onto the deck. The deckhand drops to his knees, Hook’s eyes are half open staring at the sky but he still breathes. ‘My love, come back to me!’ Jones shouts shaking his shoulders but to no avail, the Captain seems to be in some state of unconsciousness and his continued pleading has no effect.

\----------

Jones sits next to him until darkness begins to fall, beside himself with worry and fear and wrecked by the glimpse of torment and misery Hook silently endures. How ridiculous he was to pout over a few ill-tempered words said amidst a storm, when the love of his life lives with this constant torture. He is disgusted with himself. He kisses Hook’s hand and presses his palm to his cheek; his fingers are cold, he must get him below he cannot lie here through the night.

He drags him to the hatch that leads to their quarters, then rigs a rope around Hook’s chest and under his arms to lower his limp form down into their cabin. After much wrestling, pulling, tugging and lifting Hook lies sideways on the bed and Jones sits dejected on the floor beside him. He lingers there until the morning light streams through the windows then stands, hoping beyond hope that Hook has awakened from his trance, but he still stares blindly at the ceiling. The deckhand wipes away the black streaks from his face and gently closes his eyelids, he whispers ‘I love you’ in his ear then sets about taking stock of their predicament.

He must take action in some way, remaining paralyzed with despair will help no one. He remembers Hook’s speech about the dagger, that should he become incapacitated for any reason, that he must hide it where it cannot be found. He uses his hook to remove the dagger from the safe then takes it below deck to the hold. There is a loose board in a dark corner covering a small space he often used to hide his treasures, items he worried his crew mates might steal for themselves. He sets the dagger inside then replaces the board and drags a barrel over to conceal it for good measure, then returns to their quarters.

There is no change in him.

\----------

He sighs heavily then pours over the maps on the desk, from what he can gather they appear to be about two hundred miles off course. One man trying to sail a ship of this size is a near impossible task, but he can hoist a few sails if there is wind and begin to correct their route on his own. He glances at Hook’s still form then climbs onto the deck, thanking the heavens for the slight breeze he feels on his face, then goes to work to get them underway. Hook had marked the coastal town of Cabo Peñas as their next objective, he turns the ship about then ties off the wheel as the wind fills the sails; they travel south east for what purpose Jones is unsure. The witch Acela is rumored to live farther south on a small island near Cape Horn, surrounded by the most hazardous and unpredictable waters on earth. Perhaps Hook means to regroup before the final leg of their journey, Jones can only pray that this spell he is under will subside before then.

He checks on Hook and sees to his comfort, then speaks quietly in his ear that they are on track and he must wake up, he is loved and needed. They will battle this together, he cannot do it alone. He does not _want_ to do it alone, nothing matters without him by his side. He curls against him and closes his eyes to rest for a few hours before returning to the deck to trim the sails and check their heading. They are at least ten days from port, it will take all of his strength and knowledge to stay the course and seek help for his love, if help can be found. He must have courage and fortitude in the days to come.


	6. Revelations and hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reasons behind Hook's collapse are revealed and the deckhand takes the lead.

It was a point of no return and Hook knew the battle was lost. When the pain became so acute, the attack so extreme and so violent that he could no longer resist it and the darkness swallowed him whole. Suddenly he was drowning in the thick black soup that churned inside him, and a slave to its wants; he stood on the precipice of madness. Its mindless evil driving him deeper toward an overwhelming desire to slaughter those who had injured him, or any other soul unlucky enough to cross his path for that matter. The suffocating pitch filled his lungs and rose up in his throat, its tendrils piercing every part of him until he was unable to draw a clean breath.

All was hot and wicked and wrong.

Yet as the oily substance welled up in his eyes and spilled down his face, his last lucid thoughts fixed on his companion and what would become of him when this monster is unleashed. Would he still know him? He floated tenuously on the surface of the abyss and swiftly resolved that no, he would _not_ risk the danger that the deckhand might fall victim to his oppression, or worse yet be harmed by his own hands. The image of Jones hurt and bleeding flashed in his mind and he knew he had no choice.

This quest to banish the darkness was a hopeful wish and nothing more, he was beaten and tired of fighting. And perhaps this is a fitting end to a scoundrel and villainous man, and it might be the ultimate answer. By all the Gods it will not prevail in the end, not if he can stop it; there must be some limit to his physical form, destroy the vessel and kill the demon along with it.

Employing the final vestiges of his will, he summoned his most powerful magic and forced it inward. He whispered spell after spell and pushed them down and held them in to roil and seethe, until he could no longer speak or see. His body vibrated with malevolent energy, his organs convulsed and contorted in agony, his skin burned as though it were aflame.

Every cell and fiber struggled and screamed in protest, and It was nearly done when a sound fell on his ears and he turned toward it. A touch and the purest kiss, the lightest press of soft lips against his, and his concentration was broken, the magic dissipated. A sweet face shimmered before him and he heard his own voice say a name as though he were outside of himself…

Jones.

It echoed in his head, then blackness for how long he is not sure.

———————

He regained awareness as the deckhand heaved and hauled his body onto the mattress, though he was incapable of assisting him. His limbs and muscles refused to function, his eyes would not move but he could see ahead clearly and heard the panicked voice of his lover with heartbreaking clarity. Jones had closed his eyelids and now his must rely on his ears for all information, a prisoner inside his own body. He is severely damaged, of this he is certain but the shock is lessened at each passing day. If only he could move his hand, but patience is required.

In the hours following his collapse he wanted so much to cry out with pride at Jones’ bravery and courage against insurmountable odds. He is alone and afraid, unsure of their direction yet he did as promised and secured the dagger. Hook could hear the safe open and close as Jones muttered to himself, then his footsteps fading en route to a secret hiding place.

He listened to him grumble and figure and surmise as he studied the maps on the desk, then soon he felt the ship begin to move and carry them forward. He would have wept if he had been able to muster a tear. When his companion returned later and spoke to him, told him how important he was and how much he loved him and needed him, his hope for the future was ignited once again.

This loving man is deserving of happiness, he has toiled all his life with no real promise of anything more than a few coins and a harsh reality. Hook has experienced victory and its spoils, love, joy and immense power; but he would cast it all away to hold his love in his arms and see his sweet shy smile again.

It has been five nights by his count since that fateful day, he had made the decision after charting their position that Cabo Peñas would be the most sensible next stop on their journey. His home is not far from there and he would like Jones to see it, though he has not been there in many years himself. He has paid a caretaker to tend it and can only guess at its state, Jones is his partner and a landowner now, he should know its condition and where it lies. His plan was to rest there for a day or two, take on fresh supplies and continue, but now… he fears mending the offense he has wrought on himself may take longer.

The darkness seems to be tamped down and burned out, perhaps diminished for a time along with any semblance of his magical powers. He assumes they will return eventually but rest is necessary in the meantime.

———————

Jones stands at the helm and steers to starboard tack through the wind, he quickly ties off the wheel then runs to trim the sheets one by one, pulling the ropes with all of his might as the deck heels right, under his feet. The last days have been a herculean endeavor, he has four sails flying and they are hindered in speed but he cannot bear more on his own. Normally a crew of at least ten men are needed to sail the Jolly Roger, and he feels quite at his limit. Panting at his efforts, he hangs on a rope and stares out over the endless expanse of ocean and sky, his hair whipped by the wind he rakes his hand through it absently. A large cloud formation floats far off in the distance, he has watched it with trepidation as it slowly rolls across the horizon, he will keep a weather eye upon it and should it change direction, he will run from it. 

The ship bounces against a large wave and he is thrown sideways but regains his balance and plants his feet wide apart to steady himself. He thinks of Hook standing this way, naked and angry, striking a magnificent pose then stalking across the room, water dripping from his hair. So splendid a man to gaze upon, he misses him desperately and longs for the touch of his hand and the sound of his voice. They travel at 12 knots, on schedule to reach their destination in six days barring any unforeseen delays. Jones knocks wood at that thought, no more delays. He must get Hook to port, he has been unable to feed him or coax him to take any water. He is immortal but no sustenance for five days… it must be causing him pain.

He hangs his head and pounds his fist on the rail, gritting his teeth in anger and frustration then closes his eyes. He cannot lose hope. He breathes deeply in and out to calm himself, his body grows still and he quietly utters a prayer to the sea, ‘I have never asked for favors before now,’ he solemnly entreats, ‘but I beg you, heal him. Let him drink a sip of water and open his eyes and hear me, that I might tell him how much he is loved.’

He pauses a moment and sighs then glances at the angle of the sun, 7 o’clock or thereabouts. He fetches a biscuit and jerky from the mess and returns to the deck to eat, he will not dine in the presence of a man who cannot. He gnaws the beef and chews the bread without pleasure, they are merely a means to an end; to fill his belly and keep up his strength for the days ahead.

Their course set for now he heads down to their quarters, chattering brightly at Hook about the day’s events while he chooses a volume from the shelf. ’The wind is strong and pushes us briskly forward my love, we should reach port soon and make you well again.’ He says then looks at his lover unmoving on the bed ’Shall we try some water? Perhaps today you might swallow a drop… for me?’ Jones pours a small amount of the cool liquid into a glass then settles on a book by Daniel Defoe for this night’s entertainment. ‘I would read _Robinson Crusoe_ aloud, I do hope that will please you. It is an exciting tale though I am sure you have read it, perhaps it has been some time since the last and it might sound new again.’ Jones says cheerily then walks to the bed and sets the book on the small table beside it, he turns to Hook and gently lifts his head and shoulders and adds a second pillow to prop him. He retrieves the glass and holds it to his lips…

———————

Hook listens to this conversation and is so moved by his companion’s tender care, and the effort he makes to present an optimistic view. He has seen to his comfort throughout each day, bathing his body and moistening his dry lips, moving his limbs and rolling him from side to side to keep any soreness at bay. He reads aloud each night and holds him close as he sleeps for a few hours, before returning to guide the ship toward their destination. His inner beauty and quiet strength, the innate goodness within him and the kindness he so readily shares are traits richer than any treasure.

If he could only show him some sign that he is conscious… Hook concentrates fiercely, focusing only on the glass against his mouth and chanting inside his head, _Lips obey my will._ _Lips obey my will…_

‘Please my love, please, please try,’ Jones pleads.

 _Lips obey my will._ _Lips obey my will. Lips OBEY ME!_ … and they separate. Slightly. A minuscule movement, but a small step.

Jones sees this and is so euphoric he nearly drops the glass, his body begins to tremble uncontrollably. His hand is shaking as he tips the glass and pours a small drop between Hook’s lips to wet his tongue, then sets it aside and promptly erupts into tears. 'My love, you can hear me?!?' He wails, then bends down to sob against Hook’s neck, clutching his shoulder and stroking his hair and his face with his fingers. All of his guilt and worry and heartache pent up over the last five days comes flooding out in gulping, hitching waves.

When Jones finally catches his breath he lifts his head to search Hook’s face for any further improvement and finds none, but it matters not. He is smiling from ear to ear at the blessings he _has_ received and leans to kiss his mouth, savoring the softness of his lips and so anxious for the moment when his affection will be returned. He picks up the book and carefully climbs onto the bed then forms himself to Hook’s side. He is brimming with happiness for this small miracle, Poseidon had heard him. 

———————

Jones' brows knit together as his fingers thread through his lover's hair, ‘I believe you are listening, and I must tell you how sorry I feel,’ he humbly admits ‘for leaving you to your own devices when you needed me most. I did _not_ understand the weight of your burden, but now that I have felt some small measure of it, I am more determined than ever before to find an answer that will free you from this terrible curse. I love you my dearest one, with all of my heart.’ His eyes drift fondly over Hook’s profile, he presses his lips to his cheek then opens the book and begins to read:

_CHAPTER I - START IN LIFE: I WAS born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family, though not of that country, my father being a foreigner of Bremen, who settled first at Hull. He got a good estate by merchandise, and leaving off his trade, lived afterwards at York, from whence he had married my mother, whose relations were named Robinson…_

_I love you as well, my poor sweet darling_ Hook thinks to himself, his neck still wet with the deckhand's tears. He is overjoyed and relieved that he could give Jones this modest mercy and a glimmer of light. He has no reason to be sorry and would tell him so if he could, there was nothing to be done at the time, the conflict was his to bear. He can only pray there will not be a next time... but thinking further upon it, perhaps he is wrong not to lean more heavily upon his companion and draw from his grace, he has shown his industry and willingness to give aid. What kind of fool would not accept his devoted assistance? He must tell him the truth about this circumstance however, when he is able, and it is not a discussion he anticipates with glee.

He smiles inwardly as he listens to Jones read from the novel, his pitch changing to fit each character and speak in their manner, completely immersed in the story and giving it life through his telling of it. His love was correct, he has read this work before, several times in fact, but it _is_ new again.

He thinks of the many books he has read in his life and imagines how thrilled Jones will be when he sees the library at their home… he scans the room in his mind, a faded memory of oak and leather, the warmth of a fire crackling in the hearth. He spent many blissful hours sipping rum and thumbing through the pages of a novel, feeling the heft of it in his hand. So long ago. He pictures the shelves lined with bound volumes, their titles stamped in gold, silver and black and a faint image swims to the surface... 

_ A Study of Alchemy. _

A science that he found unbelievable but fascinating as a mortal man, not knowing the possibilities sorcery could offer to such research. Considering his life as it is, he was naive to so summarily dismiss it. But now a passage comes to mind describing an object with the power to collect magic, he recalls the drawing that accompanied the words, he thought it well executed and with fine detail, it depicted a horn shaped receptacle with a spherical chamber attached and a strange language engraved on its face. He cannot see the name of it in his mind’s eye and it could very well be fiction but he would study it again nonetheless. The thought of this potential new clue fills him with impatience, though his eagerness is tempered by the knowledge that his recollection could be faulty.

———————

He is disheartened by this paralysis and would aid Jones in sailing this ship, so they might reach port straightaway, but the deckhand has managed skillfully in his absence. He has taken command with aplomb and while Hook has always believed in his companion’s abilities, perhaps this experience has allowed him to realize his own strength and develop a true belief in himself. Hook does not regret his choice and would make it again, he knows now with certainty that his love is resilient and will endure no matter the outcome of their mission.

Jones reads for the better part of an hour then closes the book and speaks softly ‘that is all for this evening, we will continue tomorrow. I must maneuver the ship, but I will return soon,’ he kisses Hook’s palm and squeezes his fingers, then climbs up and out onto the deck and goes about his labors, the strain made easier by the joy in his heart. There are still miles yet to travel, but his faith is renewed; Hook will recover, of this he has no doubt. He looks up at the stars above, Orion’s belt is pointing the way to a distant harbor.


	7. Passion and peril

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook awakens and begins to recover with some loving care, and the deckhand is tested once again.

When his eyes opened for the first time since that terrible day, the deckhand’s joy was boundless. To look into them again as they blinked away the mist, his lover and dearest friend returned; there were no words to describe his happiness, he could not stop smiling and could breathe again without this anvil of anxiety crushing him under its ponderous weight. There are times when the depth of his love frightens him, it is so powerful and unflagging and painful; but nothing worth having is easy and he believes in their shared destiny… and the alternative? Well, that is no choice at all.

Since then small but steady progress day by day; a wiggling of toes and a flutter of fingers, a swallowed drink of water. Jones was elated but so very weary from his labors. He has had little rest in many days, on constant watch and only slumbering for a few hours when he was able. He could barely keep his eyelids apart despite his glad mood. He read two more chapters of _Robinson Crusoe_ and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep at the start of the third. Hook listened to his breathing as he snored softly against his shoulder and knew he would be angry with himself, but his sweet love required and deserved rest. Their course would not be so adversely affected by this lapse and he would not wake him.

Hook cleared his mind and relaxed into the mattress then focused on reviving his body.

———————

The deckhand stirs with a start at daybreak and Hook is gazing at him, his face so open and vulnerable, lips slightly separated as though ready to speak some truth but remaining silent. Jones cups his cheek in his hand, wondering at his expression then moves to kiss away whatever worry is behind his beautiful eyes. Hook responds to his kiss passionately, his mouth and tongue working with motive and purpose, wishing to show his love the full measure of his _own_ devotion and how deeply _he_ is loved and cherished.

Jones beams timidly at his attention, then angles his head back to better see him, ‘I have missed you while I slept’ he says brightly, ‘but how are you this day, can you speak? Are your limbs able to move? Do you have feeling in your torso?' Hook grins at this barrage of questions and squeezes his eyes closed then with difficulty answers ‘yes, I can speak my sweet,’ his voice a raspy whisper and strained, but it is a sound Jones had longed to hear for a solid week. He hugs Hook against him, his hand kneading the muscles in his back thankful for this latest victory, then he sighs at the sunlight streaming through the window.

’I must see to our course,’ he whimpers into Hook’s hair, annoyed that he must leave him at this moment, but tending the sheets is long overdue and he sits up and moves from the bunk. ‘I will return as quickly as I can,’ a last tender kiss then he hurries onto the deck, grumbling at himself for his laziness, the ship is in irons and sailing directly into the wind. They have lost time, but Hook is much improved this morning and he smiles broadly at that thought. He sets their heading aright and wrangles the sails into order, the ship once again moving toward land and not floundering amidst the waves. At least he feels rested and at full strength but he laments their lack of momentum throughout the night.

———————

Rough seas and strong winds, the sun hides behind a cloud and this southerly course has brought a chill in the air. He shivers slightly as he ties off the wheel and loops any stray ropes neatly over the large pegs along the rail, then runs to rejoin Hook in their quarters. ‘Perhaps you would eat a bite of food?’ he asks hopefully, his cheeks rosy from the wind. Hook nods slightly and hoarsely replies ‘perhaps.’ His Captain has been unclothed since the day following the onset of his ‘illness’ as Jones refers to it, not knowing otherwise. It was easier to tend him and see to his needs, but the air is brisk and cold against his bare skin. Jones lights a small fire in the stove to heat the room then scampers to the mess to prepare them some breakfast.

Any fresh provision has expired long ago and they must settle for salted beef warmed in a pan, some beans poured over biscuits, water and two cups of tea. He would not burn Hook’s mouth and the temperature of the beverage is tepid at best and it’s color is weak, but better than nothing he thinks. Jones carries the tray back to their cabin, he props Hook with pillows then sets about feeding him; tiny bites carefully chewed and swallowed and washed down with drop of liquid. Hook eats only a modest amount, his stomach small from lack of use, but he feels stronger already with a meal in him.

‘Look,’ he says, and lifts his hand from the bed, his fingers spark and snap with magic ‘it begins to return though I have little control.’

‘And the darkness?’ Jones asks worriedly

‘It is there,’ Hook answers with resignation.

The deckhand removes the tray of dishes and sets them on the desk, then turns back and looks meekly at the floor ‘I would lie with you… and touch you.’

Hook smiles brilliantly at him and croaks ’Nothing would please me more, my love.’

———————

The deckhand grins crookedly at the sound of his voice, but misses the rich tones he is used to. He stokes the fire in the stove then begins to undress, blushing under Hook’s watchful eye. First his vest, removed and folded neatly then his blouse pulled up and over his head, leaving his hair ruffled and mussed; he takes off his boots, steps out of his breeches and stands naked and sheepish. It feels strangely like the first time he disrobed in front of his lover, eager and wanting to be close yet shy at his scrutiny.

Hook beckons him with a crook of his finger and Jones climbs onto the bunk, stretching out beside him cozy and warm beneath the covers. His fingers scratch through the hair on Hook’s chest then drift down along the muscles of his abdomen and over the skin covering the bones of his ribs, ‘Can you feel my touch?’ He asks, Hook nods at him, his eyes half-open, desire written on his features. ‘Kiss me, my sweet’ he entreats and their lips press together so soft and full, brushing gently then parting. The deckhand moans as their tongues meet to touch and glide against each other, his arms reach around his lover and he holds him close and rocks him from side to side, so thrilled to feel the warmth of his body and the taste of his mouth again.

Jones feels Hook’s hardness grow and nudge against him and he searches his face, his eyebrows arching with surprise, ‘My love!? You are aroused! May I pleasure you?? I would not cause you pain…’ Hook grins fondly at his companion’s earnest expression of concern, he is the most lovely, caring man on earth. ’Trust me when I say, your lips upon me would not cause any discomfort, I only regret I cannot yet return your affection.’ The deckhand’s face lights up with delight ‘that matters not, it is a most enjoyable activity! We will be together again in other ways when you are well again,’ he replies cheerily then dives beneath the blanket. Hook chuckles and watches his lover’s shape move under the fabric with anticipation, it has been some time since the last and he is excited for the sensation.

———————

The deckhand lays his head on Hook’s thigh and studies his thickness, then strokes lightly along its length with his fingertips, he smiles as it twitches in reaction to his touch and he hears Hook inhale sharply. He leans to mouth along it from base to tip, his tongue licking and massaging its silky skin as he moves upward then back down again. His fingers wrap around it, pulling its head to his mouth and kissing its tip, relishing the flavor of him and savoring the wetness that has gathered there. His tongue swirls and laves his tender flesh, exploring and probing the small slit at its end whilst his hand squeezes and caresses its base, lost in this blissful worship he realizes the room is now warm and throws back the covers, grateful for the cooler air. He grins at Hook’s face, wrecked with ardor and screwed up in concentration then moves to spread his legs and settle between them.

Jones bends to kiss the soft round orbs that hang below his swollen sex and takes them in his mouth one by one, rolling and gently pressing them with his tongue. Hook’s fingers grip the bedclothes, his lips plead for more, but the deckhand moves to his knees and leans forward to ravish his lover’s mouth instead. His tongue delves and plunders the soft surfaces inside, and he tilts his head to get closer. Hook responds with vigor, inflamed with lust and they kiss with abandon; both wanting to quench the thirst for the other, but the deckhand breaks away and smiles. He has other duties to attend to.

His mouth drifts to his lover’s jaw, his teeth biting along its edge, then moves on to his neck to kiss and nip. His nose drags through the wiry hair between Hook’s breasts, breathing in the intoxicating the scent of him, then continuing south pausing only to dip his tongue into Hook’s furred belly button before reaching his goal.

He grips him with his fist then slowly takes him into his mouth, pushing down onto him with lips firmly sealed, as if they were the muscle of his opening being stretched wide, then cinching tight past the tip. Hook utters as low groan, marveling at the skill of his partner and his desire to please him, his neck arching against the pillow as Jones’ wet mouth travels up and down, up and down relentlessly drawing and pulling while his hand fondles and pets all within reach. Hook is panting and making mewling sounds in his throat, nearly at the point of climax when fingers slide into the cleft of his cheeks to rub in circles over his puckered entrance.

The deckhand quickens his pace, opening his throat to swallow his entire length, humming as his head bobs faster and faster. Hook grunts and gasps in rhythm with his movements and Jones looks up at him from under his eyebrows, watching his face until he feels his first throbbing pulses, then he plunges his fingers inside.

A long, ragged, guttural moan and Hook comes hard and shuddering, his orgasm spurting and spilling out between Jones’ lips. The deckhand swallows around him, drinking the salty fluid pouring into his mouth then he begins to slow down, easing out the last drops, moving until the spasms stop and Hook softens again. He gently releases him and presses his legs together then crawls toward the pillows. Hook’s chest is heaving and he is grinning from ear to ear ‘Thank you my sweet,’ he says breathlessly ‘you are a true artist.’

‘It is my pleasure, and I have had an excellent teacher,’ Jones whispers quietly, proud that his ministrations were well met. He tucks his head under his lover’s chin and closes his eyes to bask in the glow of the moment.

———————

He has nearly fallen asleep when he hears voices, and a loud thump vibrates through the ship, he looks wide-eyed at Hook, startled by the sounds and springs from the bed. He grabs his sword and quietly unsheathes it then creeps soundlessly toward the ladder and steps up, bumping his head against the hatch to open it slightly, then peering out through the crack.

A ship flying the black is alongside them.

Pirates.

Jones makes a split-second decision and pads quickly over to the bed with a finger pressed to his lips, he lifts Hook’s shoulders and wraps his arms around his chest then hauls him from the bed. ‘Pirates! He whispers ‘I must get you to safety’

’No! I will not leave you to bear this alone!!’ Hook hisses, ‘they should not be able to board us!’ but he fears his protection spell has weakened and knows he is of no use in this state.

Jones shakes his head, ignoring Hook’s words and drags him down the narrow aisle, then pushes and prods his body into a low storage bin near the mess ’Stay quiet, I will return,’ he says softly then closes the door and latches it behind him. He runs swiftly back to their cabin and dons Hook’s clothing as rapidly as he can, listening as the grappling hooks clunk on the rail and men climb onto the deck; how many he is not sure. He buckles Hook’s sword at his hip, tucks his pistol into the waistband of his breeches then rakes his hand through his hair and climbs the ladder.

———————

Hook lies in total darkness and grits his teeth with fear and anger, the deckhand faces mortal danger and there is no time to lose. Focusing every ounce of his will, he funnels what magic he possesses to his fingertips until they begin to spark and crackle with white light, then he pushes them under his ribs, pressing as deeply as he can. He bites his lip to remain silent as the healing magic crawls into his flesh and begins to slowly repair the damage inside him.

———————

Jones steps out onto the wooden planks of the deck, steeling himself as his eyes sweep over the scene. Three men stand poised to fight swords at the ready, with five more in view behind them on the deck of the pirate vessel.

‘Who dares board my ship?!’ Jones barks imperiously ‘Do you not know who I am?’ He strides forward then trips slightly over his own feet, unused to the pointy tips of Hook’s boots. His trembling fingers reach for the hilt of his weapon.

Two of pirates step back, their eyes growing large at the sight of him; but the third stays put, suspicious of Jones’ flushed cheeks and his awkward manner. ‘Why do you _climb_ from below deck Dark One?’ He asks with narrowed eyes, ‘And why now do you not fling us into the sea?’

‘I do as I please, and this day climbing the ladder pleases me,’ he retorts then cringes inwardly at his ridiculous reply. He sneers and knits his brows together to mimic Hook’s fierceness, ’Now get thee away from here before I tear out your innards and turn you to dust,’ he commands with bluster, praying his threat will be heeded. His eyes dart from man to man and he sees their expressions turn from fear to aggression, and now they begin to move forward.

‘I think not, oh fearsome one,’ the lead pirate snarls and raises the point of his blade, ’surrender now and we may allow you to live.’

The deckhand sees no escape and must reduce the number of attackers if he is to have any chance. He snatches the pistol from his waistband, aims quickly and fires, wounding the leg of the man on the left, then tosses the gun aside and yanks his sword from its sheath. He must protect Hook from these men whatever the cost, there is no telling what they might do to him in his weakened condition.

The other two pirates rush toward him while a fourth climbs over the rail. Jones calls upon on every lesson and trick Hook has taught him as their swords clash; parrying and chopping and lunging. Using his legs to kick one away whilst fending off the other. Feinting left then striking a blow with his elbow to knock him off balance, then slashing across his ribs and slicing into his arm…

As his blade flashes through the air some primal force takes over his will with only two objectives: survive and protect.

He sees the fourth man out of the corner of his eye, inching around to attack him from behind and he retreats to head him off but too late, a sword cuts through Hook’s coat and into his shoulder. Blood pours from his wound yet still he attacks and pushes the other two back. Dodging a thrust, then advancing again, he feels no pain, and he no longer needs to mimic Hook’s battle face; he is infuriated by their cowardly tactics. Pivot and defend, bind and parry, he fights on and on until a knife finally finds its mark, sliding between his ribs and into his back. His lung collapses and he falls to his knees coughing and gasping for air.

The lead pirate grimaces, clutching a wound on his arm and raises his sword to run the deckhand through…

… then without warning, Hook appears between them in a cloud of red smoke, naked in all his glory… and enraged. He clenches his fist and the menacing pirate is instantly pulverized, his sword clatters to the deck and comes to rest on the small pile of ash that is all that remains of him. Hook’s head snaps toward the others, but he kneels beside Jones to heal his injuries before dealing with the rest. His hand moves over his lover, closing his wounds with a beam of light as the three men scramble to the rail and leap across the gap, catching hold and clinging to the side of their ship. Two mates hack the ropes that connect the vessels and the others sprint to make sail while Hook is still distracted… but not quickly enough. He stands and conjures a fireball intending to burn their ship to the waterline.

’Stop!’ Jones shouts, ‘One death is enough, I would not have you responsible for another no matter how valid the reason!’

Then quietly adds, ’The fight is over, let them run, my love.’

Hook turns to Jones and the anger on his face melts away. He closes the distance between them and takes the deckhand in his arms, and whispers into his ear ‘My valiant warrior, the bravest most compassionate soul and my constant savior.’


	8. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last the lovers make landfall for some well deserved rest.

Jones peers through the spyglass at the continent that looms ahead and scans left and right observing the terrain; Lush green stretches of trees and brilliant foliage leading to massive snowcapped mountains in the distance. A small town or village is in sight, its buildings mirroring the colors of autumn and clustered together like a festival, welcoming travelers from distant shores. He prays its inhabitants are friendly, he has had enough strife in the past month to last him a lifetime.

He hears footsteps approach then Hook is by his side, he slides his arm around Jones’ waist and tugs him sideways affectionately ‘I think we deserve a holiday before embarking on the next harrowing leg of our journey,’ He says smiling, ‘I vow I shall remain upright and there will be no devil birds, no broken bones, no menacing pirates or sword fights or stabbings to face over the next several days. What say you my sweet?’ He laughs and presses his lips against Jones’ brow, it has been a long, long voyage he thinks to himself. The deckhand grins back at him and softly replies, ‘I would be grateful for a few peaceful moments with you,’ his eyes settling on the mended leather at the shoulder of Hook’s duster.

——————

A day after their encounter with the pirate ship, Jones entered their quarters to find Hook pawing through a drawer in search of something. And when it could not be found there he moved on to his sea chest pushed against the far wall. The deckhand hopped onto the edge of the bunk watching Hook in his quest, ‘What do you seek?’ he asked curiously as Hook removed the wooden tray from the chest, his hand sliding objects to and fro below it. ‘This!’ he said and held up a small spool of waxed thread, ‘and this’ a heavy sewing needle was pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

‘I require your assistance for a moment if you do not mind, will you aid me in threading this needle?’ Hook asked

‘Of course’ Jones answered ‘but what must be sewn?’

‘I would repair the cut on the shoulder of my coat.’ Hook said matter-of-factly

Jones made a face, ’But can you not use your magic and make it disappear? Sewing it will be an unsightly fix…’

Hook looked at Jones, his expression soft but serious and solemnly replied, ’I do not wish to make it disappear, my love. I wish to remember it.’

——————

He had broken down and wept following the pirate attack and confessed his attempt to end his own life.

‘The pain was so great I could not endure it and I feared for your safety’ he sobbed, ‘but my decision and subsequent failure had far reaching consequences that I did not consider; you have toiled and cared for me for days on end, you were nearly killed trying to protect me… and all of this was my doing. Your connection to me puts you in harm’s way, I am so sorry to have drawn you into this bloody morass. I am not worthy of you.’

Jones squeezed his eyes closed, shocked and distressed as he listened to Hook bear his soul to him. He sighed heavily then climbed onto the bed and held out his arms, ‘Come, lie with me,’ he said.

Hook moved onto the bunk and curled into his embrace, tears still leaking from his eyes ‘You did only what you thought you must,’ Jones began, his fingers combing soothingly through his hair ‘But you will _not_ do such a thing again. You will tell me should you ever begin to feel such depths of despair… I was childish and behaved petulantly that day and I blame myself for avoiding you and I have said as much.’

Hook raised his tear stained face and met the deckhand’s eyes as he continued ‘These are trying times and we must bolster each other, you and I. I would move the heavens and the earth to ease your pain, please let me share your burden, my love.’ Jones brushed a lock of hair from his partner’s forehead, ‘And I will hear no more of this unworthy rubbish from you, you _are_ worthy of a happy life and a joyful existence, my presence in it notwithstanding. Now rest your weary eyes, you are deeply loved and all is well.’

——————

Jones turns his gaze from the stitched line on his coat back to the horizon. He was less upset about Hook’s actions, though thankful to the Gods that they did not succeed, but more so because Hook felt he could not share his feelings with him. He does believe and trust now that he has made himself heard, and that Hook will be more open in the future. They must both be honest and clear with each other, their lives depend upon it.

‘What do you think about, my sweet’ Hook asked, his eyebrows furrowed with concern, ’I am thinking about how much I love you,’ Jones answered brightly then kissed Hook’s lips, a chaste press that rapidly devolved into a passionate embrace. Their bodies locked together on the deck of their ship, the wind whipping through their hair. Hook leans back with regret, ‘Shall we gather our things and ready ourselves for departure? If we continue in this way I fear we will be otherwise occupied for several hours,’ he said raising a lusty eyebrow.

Hook moved to weigh anchor and cast a new protection spell, then they retired to their cabin to make a final check. Jones had retrieved the dagger from its hiding place the previous day and returned it to the safe, Hook removed it with disdain and secured it to his belt. Their clothing and belongings needed for shore were neatly packed into a large trunk, ‘It can become quite cold here,’ Hook remarked as his eyes perused the deckhand’s garments, ‘We shall obtain a warmer coat, some gloves and perhaps a jaunty hat for you before proceeding to our destination,’ he said grinning wryly, his hand ruffling the deckhand’s hair.

Jones looked wounded and walked to view his reflection in the small mirror, smoothing the pieces sticking out at the top of his head with his fingers, ‘Would you have me not appearing at my best?!’ he pouted in humor, then his eyes fell on the violin case leaning against the wall, he bent to pick it up and tuck it under his arm. ‘We must not forget this! It has been too long since I have heard its sweet melody.’ Hook smiled warmly at him then with a flick of his wrist they were transported to the shore.

——————

‘I would hire a carriage my love, so you might see the sights along the way. Would that please you?’ Jones bounced on the balls of his feet, his eyebrows arching with excitement. ‘I presume that means yes?’ Hook chuckled, ‘Wait here a moment, I will return shortly.’

The deckhand watched his love as he walked to the livery, then turned to look about him. Fisherman unloading their catch on the dock, while others fillet and prepare it for market; a group of rough men grin and guffaw at some joke he cannot not hear as villagers hurry by with bundles and baskets on their way to an unknown locale. Jones smiles at the activity, it is pleasant to be amongst people again. His eyes sweep over the majestic landscape beyond the town and what a stunning vista to behold; a rocky range of peaks rising high into the clouds, snow blowing from their summits then trailing off across the sky.

‘It is beautiful is it not?’ Hook sighs, draping his arm around Jones’ shoulders. An small enclosed coach rolls up pulled by two dappled horses, Jones longs to pet them but they prance and scratch at the dust with their hooves and he thinks better of it. Two men load their chest onto the boot and place the violin case inside, Hook instructs the driver to meet them at the square, they have some shopping to attend to and will return in and hour or so. ’Let us be off to the haberdashery and clothe you appropriately,’ Hook says, ‘I can see my breath in the air and the temperature will drop further at sunset,’ and they stroll arm in arm toward the center of town.

——————

‘Will we rest at an inn this night? Jones inquires, realizing he had asked no questions about why this town or what Hook has in mind, he has been so caught up in crises it had not occurred to him. ’No, my sweet, yet another surprise is in store,’ Hook answers with a twinkle in his eye. Jones narrows his eyes at him then stops to look into the window of a baker, a worker places loaves of fresh bread wrapped in brown paper on the shelf. ‘Oh! May we purchase a loaf or two and perhaps a sweet along with them? I have a strong yearning for a muffin with jam,’ he pleads.

‘You require some pocket money, my love,’ Hook withdraws several gold coins from a pouch and hands them to Jones, ‘You may buy whatever you wish. But let us first tend to your warmth, we will stop here on our way to the square.’ Jones nods happily and they continue on along the narrow street, then enter the shop selling men’s garments. The deckhand chooses a navy blue knee-length wool coat with a high collar and cuffs, its silver buttons struck with anchors, a long gray knit scarf and a pair of black leather gloves. Hook adds two pairs of thick socks and a soft black blouse to his order, the shopkeeper packages the small items and coins are exchanged.

As they exit, Hook glances at the sun, ‘We must make haste if we are to arrive at our destination before nightfall,’ he quips. A stop at the butcher for some cuts of meat, the fromagère for cheeses, then finally the baker as promised. Now armed with foodstuffs and a much warmer deckhand, they make their way to the coach and climb inside; its interior cozy and snug they huddle together as the horses trot along the dirt road.

——————

Jones holds Hook’s hand enjoying the scenery as they trundle past, a large orchard on the left nearly bare branched now in mid October, the leaves have mostly fallen in preparation for the onset of winter. A vast clear lake on the right, fed by the melting snow running off the mountains, its waters crisp and cold Jones supposes yet he would still walk along its sandy shore bare-footed. Birds launch from a tall pine tree, startled by the sounds of the carriage. Jones eye's them with suspicion as they burst out then settle again.

They approach a fork in the road then follow the leftward tine and roll down a lane flanked on either side by large maple trees, their limbs forming a yellow canopy lit golden by the setting sun. Jones leans forward to take in this wonderful tunnel of light and sees a gabled house sprawling at its end. Its color a faded green and blending into the landscape, it sits at the top of a small rise with a breathtaking view of the sea.

A porch stretches across it from end to end and a swath of fir trees line the seaward side to serve as a wind break. There is a barn-like outbuilding faced with stone sitting on the right, and another small dwelling with a gray clapboard exterior is situated behind it; Its windows glow alight and smoke puffs out from its chimney.

The front door opens and a man hurries to greet them as they step out of the coach and onto the cobblestoned path.

——————

‘Captain!’ he shouts, ‘Welcome home!! it has been some time since I last saw you! Will you be staying awhile?’ He asks then reaches out to shake Hook’s hand. ‘It is good to see you Garrett,’ Hook says warmly, ’This is Jones, my companion. We will be here for a few days then we must continue our journey, but we hope to return soon when our business is complete.’ Jones shakes the caretaker’s hand, still speechless at his revelation.

Home?! This magnificent place is Hook’s home? And now it is _his_ home as well?? The deckhand is bewildered by it all.

Garrett and the driver carry their chest into the house as the caretaker chatters away ‘All is in good order,’ he says, his voice fading as the two men lug the chest down the hall to the bedroom. He trots back a few moments later and begins to pull the dust covers from the furniture while Hook tips the driver and directs him to return three days from now.

Garrett takes their coats and hangs them in a closet near the door ‘I will light a fire before I leave you in peace, there are some staples in the pantry though I fear nothing fresh. I will run to the market at first light,’ he says dashing to stack dry wood in the large fireplace at the end of the room, then strikes a match and soon a fire roars to life. ‘Thank you Garrett, we did bring a few morsels to tide us over for now,’ Hook answers. The caretaker smiles and nods then bids them goodnight.

Jones’ head is still spinning at the hustle and bustle that just took place when Hook grins broadly and says, ‘Well, here we are my sweet!’ then pulls him into his arms and captures his mouth for a long, slow, lazy kiss. His lips drift along his lover’s jaw ‘A tour perhaps and a bite of food before I take you to bed?’ his voice sultry and low, his mouth moves to work the sensitive spot below Jones’ ear.

The deckhand angles away both thrilled and exasperated, his palm playfully striking Hook’s shoulder, ‘Why did you not tell me of this?’ He huffs. Hook takes his hand then gestures with his hook, ‘I am telling you now my love! Let me show you around.’

Hook snaps his fingers and oil lamps flare alight throughout the house.

——————

The living room is large but not too.

Slate blue walls with shelving spanning an entire side and filled with nautical treasures, small leather-bound journals, porcelain figurines and dozens of trinkets collected from far off places; a long credenza stretches below, its top inlaid with wood in an intricate design. A patterned Persian rug covers the floor and two arm chairs sit upon it with a small round table between. The sofa, upholstered in a striped gold and white fabric is positioned in front of the fire, and a large engraving of the HMS Homeward ornately framed in gold hangs over the mantle.

Jones sighs at how comfortable and warm it is.

Next they move on to the kitchen, a huge brick hearth with pots and skillets hanging from hooks, a cast iron stove and a sturdy butcher block table for preparation. The dining table stands in the adjoining room, stained black and surrounded by six spindle-backed chairs. Ivory wainscoting and sage green paper with rows of delicate vines hand painted upon its surface adorns the walls. The sideboard sits on the left and a china cabinet displaying Delft plates is angled in the far corner. He will take time to study these dishes in the morning, Jones muses.

——————

They cross the living room and move down the hall, on the left a ceramic tiled room for ablutions with a large claw footed tub, Jones wonders if the both of them can soak in it together, and the tips of his ears glow red at the thought. Hook watches Jones’ face with delight as he discovers each new nook and special detail, then he pulls open the double doors leading to the library and the deckhand gasps at the number of books in view.

Heavy oak cases stand shoulder to shoulder filled from top to bottom with every imaginable topic; Adventure stories, sagas and dramas, reference volumes, biographies, poetry, essays and treatise and so many more. An elaborately carved desk rests at the left, some maps and a feather quill still lay on its surface from the last time Hook had sat there. A small fireplace at the other end of the room with a leather chair and ottoman beside it. Jones is astonished by the words contained here, he looks over the titles and runs his fingertips along their bindings then turns to Hook, his eyes shining with tears ’This must be a dream, I cannot believe it is true,’ he declares.

‘It is not a dream, it is yours and mine for the next three days… then I pray the rest of our lives.’ Jones runs into his arms and squeezes him tightly, Hook groans at his strength, ‘I cannot breathe!’ he gasps out then winks at his companion with amusement. ‘Perhaps we should dine before inspecting the bedroom, I fear I would not wish to leave it again,’ Jones’ cheeks flush at his wanton reply, he is ready and willing but his stomach does grumble, and a muffin with apricot jam would not go amiss.

——————

They relax together on the floor by the fire, their blouses untucked and warm socks on their feet, nibbling bread, cheese and muffins dripping with jam; Jones moans with contentment at its sweet taste, he has missed sugary treats and could eat the whole pot. Hook pours two cups of tea, lacing them liberally with brandy and soon they are tipsy and giggling together, ‘Would you care to see our bedchamber my love?’ He asks innocently enough, but his eyes tell another tale. Jones tilts his head and grins, knowing his game, then nods with enthusiasm. Hook stands and pokes the fire to spread the embers then pulls the deckhand to his feet and leads him down the hall.

Jones has never seen a bed so large. Having slept in a hammock or on small bunk the majority of his life, he did not know such a comfortable looking sleeping place existed. Four solid posts at each corner and a canopy above, it appeared more fit for a King than a lowly deckhand like himself. Hook is pressed against his back as he looks about the room, their chest resting at the end of the bed, a large armoire and writing desk and chair along the wall, flames burn low in the fireplace on the left.

He turns and gazes into his Captain’s expressive eyes, the windows of his soul, and is lost in their beauty. Despite all that has happened he feels safe in his arms, as though nothing in the world could harm him. They undress each other in silence then Jones kneels onto the bed and looks over his shoulder with a seductive grin on his lips, he crawls to the center of the mattress and props himself on his elbow. Hook follows him and is suddenly nervous, feeling raw and exposed and more emotional than he has been in years.

This vision of happiness that the future could bring, calm days and loving nights… it is overwhelming, and he is dreadfully afraid of losing it all. Jones sees the disquiet on his lover’s face and wraps his arms around him and their foreheads press together, they lay simply breathing and being close for a moment. He understands his fear, he feels it too. The prospect of getting and keeping everything you have ever wanted seems unreal and an unlikely fairytale, but their relationship was unlikely from the start and look how far they have come together.

——————

Their lips meet to softly kiss, languid and relaxed movements while gentle hands touch and soothe the skin of the other, searching their flesh for undiscovered points of pleasure. Jones clutches handfuls of Hook’s silky hair and pulls it with exquisite tension, his lips slant and move now with urgency as he grows hard and restless for something deeper.

Hook’s fingers rest at the small of his lover’s back, pressing and massaging in circles, then reaching for his knee and hitching his leg over his waist. Their bodies begin to move with purpose and rut and grind against each other, Hook arches his neck and Jones bites along it, his teeth dragging through the scruff then dipping his tongue into the depression at his throat.

A moment of pause to appreciate each other, eyelids hooded with desire and mouths hanging slack, ’I would move inside you, my love’ Hook breathes and begs with his eyes, ‘May I pleasure you?’ he says grinning crookedly. Jones touches his lovers's face remembering his own words, then his lips curl into a sweet smile, his cheeks rosy with passion and the warmth of the fire. He rolls onto his back and opens his legs to cradle his partner and Hook climbs on top of him, wanting to completely connect. Jones legs encircle Hook’s hips, his feet bump his cheeks and nudge him to begin.

Mouths crush together again in a bruising kiss, their tongues chasing and challenging, desperate to get closer. Jones pulls his knees to his chest then Hook licks his hand and wets his tip and strokes himself while rubbing the head of his erection around and across the deckhand’s entrance, pressing gently to test his readiness. Jones’ eyes are closed, his face relaxed with pure bliss; he grips himself then opens his eyes slightly and nods to his love to take him. A quick thrust and Hook slips inside, gradually easing into him until his entire length is buried, they moan and gasp, then quiet sounds and sighs as he pulls out slowly then drives inside again.

Hook watches his love pump himself roughly, he is enraptured and enthralled by the look on his face as he moves back and forth, faster and faster, then the sensation takes over and he squeezes his eyes closed. His hips begin to jerk and buck wildly and the deckhand quickens his pace, his eyebrows arch and he utters soft cries and moans in rhythm then comes with a strained whimper, his muscles ripple and clench around his love as he spurts out onto his own abdomen. Hook falls a moment later and tears begin to flow down his cheeks as he pours his devotion inside his dearest sweetheart.

When he is finally empty he collapses into Jones’s arms, breathing heavily and beset with these feelings he cannot control. What is wrong with him to weep at such a moment, but it spills out regardless of his wants. Jones smiles and wipes Hook's tears away with his thumb, he is changing and though he does not know why, he believes with all of his heart that these human emotions welling up in him are a good omen.


	9. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook and Jones spend a lazy day and learn some details that might aid them.

Jones has certainly taken to the large bed; lying spread-eagled and a bit sideways across the mattress, his mouth askew and oblivious to the world as he slumbers. Hook smiles as he dresses, thinking of how he had been forced onto a mere sliver of its width by arms and legs, but after the trials he has endured if anyone deserves a few hours of peace, it was Jones. He only vaguely remembers what it was like to rest in this way, to enter the dream world then awaken refreshed, his mind has not turned itself off completely in many years… aside from the period of blacked out memory he experienced during their voyage across the sea, and he would not consider that a peaceful time.

It is a brisk morning, he adds fuel the fire to warm the room then gazes out the window at the rising sun and ponders what might be accomplished during their stay.

He must speak to Garrett and explain the circumstances around their unexpected arrival and his future plans, as well as his relationship with Jones. Not in depth of course, but he would not have him treated as a guest; the caretaker should know of the deckhand’s importance to him and his co-ownership of this house and property. The rest would be evident soon enough and he does not care whether those revelations would shock, his caretaker is a kind and loyal man and he doubts their romantic association would be greeted with anything other than acceptance and courtesy, but he would brook nothing less. Jones is not the first man he has been involved with, the others however were passing fancies with mutual parting, nothing remotely resembling the love he feels for his companion. He would give up everything for the promise of his kiss.

He had slipped out of bed in the night to pen a small list of items Jones might enjoy, along with a request to engage a cook for the few days they are here; he slid it under the caretaker’s door and crept back into bed with the deckhand none the wiser. He wants this brief respite to a memorable one for them both, and one that does not involve any domestic tasks that can otherwise be avoided. He cannot predict what may lie ahead and would have his love reflect happily on their time here should he not survive, he does not wish to think about such an eventuality and tries to avoid it but it still bubbles to the surface. His tears and emotional outburst last eve took him by surprise and he contemplated these feelings for hours before reaching out for his lover again, waking him with a light touch and gentle kiss.

He can forget all else when they make love. Jones is so sensitive to his desires, such a generous and tender lover when he feels vulnerable, hungry and demanding when the blood pounds in his ears and he is in need of release. They both strive to satisfy the wants of the other and he is often struck by their synchronicity and unspoken understanding, it is uncanny how seamlessly they fit together. Perhaps because they were both abandoned as children, that unfulfilled yearning for closeness and love now finally at bay. His greatest wish would be to live here in bliss until the sea calls to them again, but he cannot ignore the darkness that grows stronger day by day.

He hears some noises coming from the larder and suspects the caretaker is stocking the cupboard, he glances at Jones and moves to tug the blanket over his exposed feet, then heads toward the kitchen.

—————————

Jones wakes much later with a massive stretch and a huge yawn then sits up wondering where Hook has gone off to; the light streaming through the window suggests it is quite late, he supposes Hook has been up and about for hours. He was slightly confused at first sight of the bedchamber in daylight, having nearly forgotten where he was. He blushes remembering their activities last night, his muscles feel pleasantly sore from the exertion and a warm bath with Hook would be a marvelous cure. Jones rakes his hand through his hair then shivering slightly gets up and dresses quickly, the chill is dampened by the fire but it still lingers. He dons a blouse and breeches then makes up the bed, he will never not be unsettled by sleeping quarters in disarray; his neatness is automatic and too thoroughly ingrained to ignore untidiness. When the covers are smooth and tucked to his satisfaction he scans the room, his eyes settle on the large armoire against the wall and he moves to pull open the doors and inspect its contents.

Several military style jackets of various colors and embellishments, waistcoats, blouses and breeches many of which remarkably still in fashion; it has been years after all since Hook’s last visit, his previous tastes obviously timeless and classic. He fingers the fabric of each garment and imagines his love wearing them in times past, perhaps striding into a ballroom dressed in his finery and dancing the night away with some pretty lass. Hook has made no mention of former lovers but his skill and confidence must certainly have grown through practice, whereas Jones had very little experience in this area; he has learned quickly however, and thoroughly enjoyed the education. Joining with Hook was natural and they balance each other so perfectly, filling an emptiness that he had felt all of his life but never understood what was missing until now.

He spies a long black quilted satin robe with a wide velvet collar amongst Hook’s clothing and decides to try it on. He can smell his scent still trapped within its fibers and it is so soft and warm he hugs himself. He must wear it. He ties the sash at his waist then admires his reflection in the freestanding oval mirror he had not noticed the night before, preening before it feeling very lordly indeed. His lover will not mind in the least, of that he is certain.

—————————

Hook had a long conversation with Garrett, and while surprised he seemed genuinely pleased by their pairing and presence on the estate, they looked over the current finances and needed repairs then perused the items and baked goods he had brought; a blackberry pie and a frosted cake along with a pheasant and some other necessities, he grins thinking of Jones’ delight at the sweets, they will both add a some weight with such indulgences but c’est la vie. The cook will arrive later to prepare them a feast for supper.

Following the caretaker’s departure he wandered the living room, his fingers touching the decorations and furniture collected in what seems like another life, remembering the people he once knew and the places he had visited. Each chair and trinket holds a memory of before he became what his is now. When he was still an honest sea captain and a gentleman, when objects still had value and held some meaning. Now this quest and his life with Jones is all that matters.

He has finished roaming and biding his time and is impatient now for company. He heats some water with a flick of his wrist and pours two cups of tea, splashing a healthy dollop of brandy into his own, then heads toward their bedroom to roust his sleepy companion, the house feels large and lonely without Jones at his side. As he passes the library he sees the deckhand reaching up to select a volume from a shelf and recognizes the gown he wears, what a fine silhouette it creates; accentuating his broad shoulders, long back and narrow waist, he grins at his socked feet peeking out from under the hem.

—————————

‘Good afternoon my sweet, did you sleep well?’ He asks mischievously.

Jones jumps slightly, startled by the sound of Hook’s voice then smiles brilliantly ‘Yes, wonderfully! I am sorry to have slept so long, I set out to find you then I saw the books and….’

Hook closes the distance between them and hands Jones his cup then sips from his own, welcoming the sting of the alcohol as he swallows ‘Worry not, they do hold an allure that perhaps I do not possess,’ he winks then reaches out to run his fingers along a satin sleeve and looks into Jones’ eyes. ‘I had forgotten about this garment, you wear it well my love.’

Jones huffs and leans to kiss him, tasting the brandy on his lips ‘You hold much allure as you well know… in fact I was dreaming of a bath mere moments ago,’ he replies, flashing his eyes coyly. ‘But why pray tell does my cup lack a dose of brandy?’ he grins.

’I did not presume you would care to indulge so early in the day but my error is easily corrected,’ he remarks then moves to retrieve a crystal decanter set on shelf amongst the books and adds a dash of its liquid to Jones’ tea cup. ‘Regarding your desire to bathe, I will grant that wish with great pleasure,’ Hook says softly, ‘I would first however have some interest in studying the contents of a book I have memory of, the information contained within it may aid us in our quest.’

Hook sets down his cup and walks to a case positioned behind his desk, he scans the titles until his eyes fall on the thick heavy volume he seeks. _A Study of Alchemy_. He opens it on the desk and gestures for Jones to join him, the deckhand eagerly looks on as Hook thumbs through the pages until he finds the illustration that sparked his remembrance then begins to translate the latin description:

_The Syphon of Orion ~ A mythical horn shaped musical pipe with an attached spherical chamber; a legendary object thought to be imbued with the power to entrap magic and harbor it for later release or transportation. Its ability to contain is transitory and neutral in nature, with an equal affinity to harness wind, water, earth, air, darkness and light; potentially volatile, its capacity and the duration of restraint is unknown…_

The drawing depicts a horn with a twisting, curling pipe, several holes are placed along its length leading to what appeared to be a mouthpiece. The widest section has an engraved inscription in some strange language, a sphere with designs upon its face connects the two parts.

‘Oh! What is this unusual item?!’ Jones asked excitedly, ‘Have you knowledge of this object or its usefulness in our mission? Do you believe it can draw out the darkness within you? How does it work and where can it be found…?’

‘I do not know my love,’ Hook laughs, ‘I thought of it as I recovered but as you can see, it may only be fantasy. Perhaps Acela can answer your inquiries if she does not first lay waste to us…’ Hook looks pained and turns to Jones, reaching up to touch his cheek, his eyes move over his face as he searches for the right words… ‘I would have you safe, my sweet,’ he begins tentatively, ‘…would you consider remaining here whilst I continue onward to find the witch?’

Jones’ brows knit together and he brushes Hook’s hand away, ’No, I will not remain here, how could you ask such a thing of me? Do you no longer desire my companionship? Because our night together would suggest otherwise,’ he says angrily, folding his arms with irritation.

‘Of course I want you, always and forever my love,’ Hook says quietly, prying the deckhand’s arms apart. He circles his waist with his own and pulls him close, ‘I have only your well-being in mind and felt compelled to ask the question, you cannot fault me for my concerns I would be broken and lost without you my darling.’

Jones turns his head and angles away, still miffed ‘Perhaps I might offer help that you cannot foresee, will you never have regard for my value?? What more must I do to prove myself?’ He says finally, then faces Hook with tears shining in his eyes.

Hook is wrecked by Jones’ words, and his ire is understandable. ‘My love, I see your worth and there is nothing to prove, it is only your mortality that I fear. I value you above all things, I am truly sorry to have upset you.’

Jones leans against him, burying his face in Hook’s neck, ‘I must be by your side, do not deprive me of this.’

‘I will not,’ Hook sighs, petting Jones’ hair. ‘Let us eat some food and take some air, I would show you the property,’ he says brightly, attempting to change the mood. He lifts Jones chin and looks at his wounded face, ‘Would you forgive me my stupidity?’

The deckhand smiles tremulously, ‘I know you only wish to protect me, I should not have accused you of more than that. But please do not ask me to stay behind again, I love you and will be with you no matter what end.’

—————————

After a light repast and a slice of cake at Jones gleeful insistence, they exit at the rear of the house and walk along a stone path through a carefully tended garden of wildflowers and long grasses. The area is surrounded by dwarf fruit trees of many types and Hook points out the features and varieties as they pass with zeal. He knows the provenance of each tree, having brought many of them here himself and he is grateful at the state of them, Garrett has earned his pay and in his estimation deserves an increase, he will see to that before their holiday is ended.

‘What a peaceful place,’ Jones says tilting his face toward the sun, enjoying its warmth and breathing in the fresh air. The earlier conversation put aside for now, he bumps against Hook’s shoulder with affection. A mossy trail on the right leads to a pond with a short wooden dock jutting out over it, bees and butterflies dart and chase amongst the delicate blooms. The path forward passes between a stand of evergreen opening onto a wide rolling vista as far as the eye can see. The hills dotted with trees and shrubs, clusters of sheep and cattle move en mass across the landscape with a wall of mountains beyond.

‘The property ends there,’ Hook says, directing Jones’ attention to stone pillars at the left and right, far off in the distance. ‘Do you ride my love? There are no horses at the moment, but I would fill the stable with stallions if you wish it,’ he quips absently, gesturing toward the building at the eastern side, its colors match the faded green of the house, the doors and windows shuttered until animals take up residence there. Jones eyebrows arch with wonder, ‘I have no experience astride but they are so beautiful, I would be glad to care for them and brush their shiny coats,’ He says, his eyes lit up with happiness.

Hook slides his arm around the deckhand’s waist, his hand resting at his hip as they walk along, ‘In that case a gentle mare to start might be more to your liking, we will have it done then,’ he pauses to nudge Jones cheek with his nose then asks ‘Would you care to view the sea?’ Jones nods and smiles sweetly in reply and with a gesture he is transported to the end of the lawn at the front of the house. His breath catches as he peers over the edge of the cliff at his feet, waves crash against the jagged rocks far down at it’s base. Hook holds him tightly from behind, bracing him against the gusting wind. Whitecaps peak and curl on the rough waters then break and form again… it is a stunning sight.

The deckhand’s eyes sweep across the horizon and the peninsulas jutting out along the shore; his cheeks rosy with excitement and thrilled by the danger, though he knows he is safe in Hook’s arms, falling would mean instant death and he would not stand so close without the safety his lover’s embrace offers him. He cranes his neck searching for Hook’s lips and he obliges, kissing him deeply, passionately. They are a vision pressed together at the edge of the world loving each other, both imagining the joy they will share when this journey is done.

Jones breaks the kiss and leans back, exhilarated and aroused ‘I would have the bath you promised,’ he says breathlessly.

Hook grins devilishly, ’As you wish, my sweet,’ he says, then waves his hand and they disappear.


	10. A lazy evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook and Jones spend the remainder of the first day of their holiday together.

The bathtub has plenty of room for two. Hook prepares the water and waves his clothing away with a flick of his wrist then steps in first, leaning back to watch Jones undress. The deckhand stands with his arms akimbo, ‘You remove your clothing with sorcery but I must undress in the conventional way?’ He complains shrugging off his vest. Hook nods and smirks, ‘One of the many benefits of being me, my love.’ His eyes focus on Jones as he pulls off his blouse and follow his breeches as they slide down his furred thighs. The deckhand sets his garments aside and climbs over the porcelain edge with vigor, purposely splashing his smug companion with his foot. 

Hook playfully slaps a round cheek as Jones settles blissfully into the soapy water, tucking himself between Hook’s legs and relaxing against his chest, ‘Oh this is wonderful,’ he sighs watching the steam rise, then drops his head backward onto his lover’s shoulder, angling his head to kiss his partner’s jaw. ‘Yes it is, my sweet’ Hook whispers and wraps his arms around Jones, his fingers lazily gliding across his breast and over his abdomen. 

‘It has been an age of sponge baths. You have magic, why have you not conjured a tub on the ship?’ Jones laments. ‘I have not considered it before,’ Hook shrugs, having no one to share it with until now ‘it does require a large amount of fresh water my love, not usually available on the average vessel.’ The deckhand can feel Hook’s erection pressing into his hip, but lovemaking while pleasurable, seems impractical here, at least at the moment. For now he prefers to soak and be close. 

He drifts in and out of wakefulness for half an hour or more, thinking about the book and the object revealed within it. Could it be the answer? And will Acela have information that can guide them to its location? He wishes he knew more about its power and would study further if there were time to do so, as much as he has enjoyed this day, he is anxious to continue on. He worries that Hook will be overcome once again, perhaps it is not wise to wait. The darkness seems to be at bay for the time being and should they not take advantage of this reprieve? He decides against pressing for answers and massages Hook’s forearm while he muses.

Hook has controlled the temperature of the bath with small gestures to maintain the perfect degree of comfort, but it has been some minutes now and he is impatient. Jones smiles when fingers begin to brush and lightly pinch his nipples, his own hand has begun to prune, perhaps it is time to wash and dress for dinner. He can smell a delicious fragrance in the air, Sofia is preparing a meal for them and he is curious about what is in store, she had loudly shooed him from the kitchen earlier barking ‘fuera!’ at him and waving a large wooden spoon when he attempted to inquire, so he must be content to wait. 

He sighs and leans away with regret. With much sloshing and considerable effort he turns around to face his love; Hook looks on with amusement as Jones twists himself into position then dunks his head beneath the surface of the water to wet his hair. Upon reappearance, the bathwater cascades off of his head and runs in rivulets down his face and body, his dark mane plastered to his skull. He swipes it from his eyes then peers at his lover from under his eyebrows. 

Hook is overcome with the desire to kiss him and reaches out to embrace him and find his soft plump lips, his tongue peeks out to lick across the seal of Jones mouth, slipping briefly inside when they separate. Their eyes connect, Hook’s gaze is so intense as if he is memorizing every detail of his his face, The deckhand looks back quizzically, curious why his lover is so rapt. 

‘Merely cherishing this moment my dear,’ Hook says in answer to Jones unspoken question. He breaks the kiss, sheepish at Jones’ scrutiny, smiling crookedly he follows suit, plunging his head into the warm water. The deckhand grasps the large bar of lightly scented soap and brings it to his nose, a subtle fragrance of Jasmine and something else he cannot put his finger on. His lover smelling of flowers seems a strange contradiction though he appears so vulnerable now, almost shy with long wet tresses hanging in his eyes. 

He knows Hook shows this side of himself only to him and feels honored by it, a worldly and fierce warrior yet so gentle and kind despite the blackness that swirls within him, revealing the man beneath the armor he has built throughout a life filled with loss and hardship is not easy for such a man. Jones begins to lather Hook’s hair, massaging his scalp then working dark strands into peaks, laughing gleefully at his spiked visage. Hook narrows his eyes and returns the favor, they work together until they are both pink and floral and scrubbed. 

Hook winces suddenly and tries to hide it, but Jones can see the shadow and turmoil in his lover’s expression as they step out of the tub, Hook is struggling to keep himself in check, distress etched on his face. ‘What do you think about?’ Jones asks reaching out to touch his face, ‘Are you in pain? Is there nothing I can do to ease it?’ Hook hesitates for a moment, ’It is not unbearable…’ he circles Jones waist with his arms and grins licentiously, ‘… I might think of a way you could cure my mood, but let us sup first and enjoy the evening.’ The deckhand nods in agreement, ‘Coffee and pie for dessert?’ 

‘Anything you desire my love.’

Hook will not say so yet, but he fears the darkness is mounting another attack, it has been increasingly difficult to manage his pain throughout the day. He wonders if these powerful emotions of late, a counterattack of sorts, have launched a war within him that he has no ability to command. He will discuss this with Jones in the morning, perhaps three days in peace was too ambitious a wish, but he will not spoil this night with talk of an early departure.

————————

As they dress a bell sounds to signal dinner is served, Jones insists Hook wear the burgundy coat with gold embellishment he found amongst his clothing and after helping him into it, stands back to admire him with a brilliant smile on his lips. Hook would not however concede to the ivory vest and stood firmly in favor of a black brocade and wool breeches. He looks so different wearing color Jones thinks, so grand and fancy and fine. Hook rolls his eyes at the deckhand’s perusal, ‘How could I have owned such a thing,’ he laughs, ‘but if it pleases you I shall wear it.’ 

’Thank you, and it does!’ Jones replies.

’So I am forced to be dressed as a dandy while you lounge in my old robe?’ He says wryly 

Jones feigns injury, his hand smoothing the velvet collar of the black quilted dressing gown that he has silently claimed ownership of, ’This garment is more elegant than any I have owned! And it is so lovely and soft… but I will don something else if you prefer it,’ he says with an exaggerated frown, his lower lip extended in a pout. 

‘Of course not my love, I would have you happy,’ Hook answers chagrined then pulls Jones into his embrace, nibbling the offended lip before bending to thoroughly kiss his neck and suck a brand at his collarbone. ‘Forgive me my teasing, let us enjoy some food and drink. I am hungry for nourishment, unfortunately my thirst for you must go unquenched until later, I fear those responsible for our meal await our arrival.’

Jones bounces and claps upon seeing the dining table so artfully arranged, a large centerpiece made up of wildflower cuttings from the garden and a candelabra at either end softly lighting the room, Sofia has set out the beautiful Delft plates and once seated the deckhand studies the delightful images baked into their surfaces. Garrett and the cook stand ready to serve them, the first course consisting of a mushroom broth and beetroot salad. They welcome the fresh greens having existed on salted pork, biscuits and wine for several weeks. 

The main course; roasted pheasant with wild rice and raisins; an herbed pudding; cheese and potato casserole and sautéed green beans with almonds. They sit together at the corner of the table, laughing and tasting each glorious dish, exclaiming at the skill of its creator. The deckhand is careful not to overindulge, saving room to savor a slice of blackberry pie for dessert. 

Unlike his partner, Hook is not overly fond of sweets though he does sample them on occasion. He takes only a few bites of his own slice content to watch Jones’ ecstasy at each forkful. He has maintained such youthful wonder at life. considering the difficulties he has faced, remaining positive and hopeful is a talent indeed, and his exuberance has rubbed off. 

Hook knows it was not always the case with his companion, he has not pried too deeply into Jones’ past believing he will share what he wishes him to know in his own time… but many of the events he has confided were far from cheerful. He supposes dwelling in history is not in Jones’ nature, preferring to look forward rather than back, with a remarkable ability to forgive the transgressions of others. 

When the meal is finished they push back their chairs and thank Garrett and Sofia profusely for their service this night and see them out, the caretaker will ensure the cook arrives safely at home.

————————

Jones takes Hook’s hand when they are alone again and presses his lips to his palm then kisses the pad of each fingertip. ’May we retire to the sofa?’ Jones asks. 

‘Certainly my sweet, I would doff this coat in favor of something more to my liking…’

‘I suppose,’ Jones makes a face but acquiesces.

The deckhand pours them each a splash of brandy and studies the soft rug in front of the fireplace, if Hook would be more comfortable then he will as well and begins to remove his clothing, draping them over the loveseat as he peels off each piece. He tosses a few pillows from the sofa onto the rug and lies down, closing his eyes he revels in the plush comfort of the fur and the heat of the fire on his bare skin. 

Hook returns a moment later in a blouse and breeches, his violin in hand and does not see Jones hidden behind the sofa when he enters the room until the deckhand’s grinning face pops up into view above its back. He beckons him with a crook of his finger and Hook wastes no time setting the instrument aside and divesting himself of his garments. 

‘Had I known this was your intention my love, I would not have changed my clothing,’ he says grinning taking a sip of brandy and pausing to admire his lover before joining him. He lays before him so openly, one arm behind his head, his muscled chest covered with dark wiry hair. A trim waist but not overly so, his shape toned from hard work aboard ship, having sailed on his own for some time as Hook recovered his arms and thighs appear more chiseled with use. One leg bent, he props himself on his elbows at his lover’s examination, throwing his head back to expose his long neck, an invitation that Hook will not hesitate to indulge in. He lays down beside his love, forming himself to his body, his thigh moving between Jones’ legs and chafing against his groin.

Hook’s fingers spark with magic and roam over Jones body, then move to comb through his hair, clutching handfuls as they kiss roughly until their lips are swollen and red. The deckhand whispers I love you over and over again as their bodies move together, Hook positions himself and pushes inside gasping as he enters his tight opening, Jones long legs wrap around his waist, his hips buck in rhythm to meet each thrust. A sheen of sweat covers their bodies as they rut together in the firelight, Hook grasps Jones’ hard length his hand still humming with magic, stroking and tugging him as he drives inside, feeling his magic pulsing around him as he slides in and out. 

His lips drift over his lover’s face then he hovers above to see him when he falls. Jones’ mouth hangs slack as he pants and moans with erotic fervor, his eyebrows arching as he concentrates on the sensations below, he opens his eyes when the warmth begins to spread up his torso, watching his lover's hair flop against his forehead. Hook’s hips swivel and grind on and on until sweat drips from his brow, his hand working between their bodies until Jones’s mewling sounds merge together into a moaning cry as he spills out. Hook smiles down at him then covers his mouth with his own, kissing him deeply until his own thickness throbs and pours its orgasm inside. When he is finally spent he collapses into Jones arms, breathing heavily and well satisfied, his body flushed and wet with perspiration.

‘I fear we will require another bath,’ Jones grins as he mops Hook’s face with his palm. ‘Indeed,’ Hook puffs rolling onto his back, he sees a fissure in the plaster ceiling that needs repair and cannot think of another time he has looked up from this perspective in front of the fire, but knowing the pleasure of it he imagines it will not be the last. He waves his hand and cleans away the evidence of their sex then sits up to reach for a brandy, handing a glass to Jones and taking a long swallow of his own, grimacing as it burns its way down his throat. Returning to his lover’s embrace, ’I would have you again and kiss you until morning,’ he says against Jones mouth. The deckhand’s lips curl into a sweet smile, he would not protest.


	11. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook struggles with these new changes and emotions, together with Jones they search for a solution.

Jones opens his eyes, his nose buried in the hair at the nape of Hook’s neck. It smells faintly of Jasmine and exertion, and is indeed a strange contradiction; he snuggles closer to press a kiss on his lover’s shoulder to taste the salty flavor of his skin. His natural scent is like an aphrodisiac, a drug to Jones’ senses, earthy and masculine, it elicits an immediate response down below. He had fallen asleep on the plush rug by the fire, sated after their night of lovemaking, its fibers soft and luxurious drawing him to slumber after such strenuous activity. Hook had ravished him with passion and urgency, his desire seemingly unquenchable with a need to both give and receive several times over, he feels thoroughly plundered, but pleasantly so.

His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, still plump and sensitive, swollen by Hook’s vigorous use of them. He did not lie about kissing him until morning, his mouth was upon his until he finally drifted off to the dream world. How glorious it was to explore each other without the imminent threat of danger looming, to relax and be completely immersed in the moment. He closes his eyes to recall fragments of their interlude, the delicious stretch around Hook’s generous length and his tender and careful attention to his comfort; never pushing to move more quickly than his readiness would allow; though Jones does enjoy a stolen moment without preamble, the exquisite pain followed by hurried thrusts and a blissful release.

He thinks of one afternoon aboard the Jolly Roger when their love was so new and they both were constantly aroused by a mere glimpse of the other, Jones stood daydreaming at the helm, looking out over the vast expanse of ocean. Hook crept up from behind, trapping him against the ship’s wheel, his breath hot on his neck as he tugged his breeches down to pool around his ankles before freeing himself. His profane murmuring and long fingers gripping and stroking in front then rubbing behind before easing himself inside and pushing in deep.

Jones giggled trying to remain upright while clutching the handles on the wheel, the rough seas causing it to spin left and right along with his body; with his legs hopelessly tangled in fabric his balance was suspect but his lover steadied him with strong arms and feet firmly planted. Hook was tireless, rutting and driving relentlessly until Jones reached his zenith then falling himself. When it was finished the deckhand turned in his arms and Hook kissed him breathless, he was wobbly for the remainder of the day, but his heart was full. Being wanted and loved so fiercely was an outcome he certainly did not expect when their journey began.

——————

He gazes fondly at the back of the man lying next to him and runs his hand along Hook’s ribs and over his hip, his fingers detect a slight shiver, the fire has burned down and he wonders if perhaps his Captain is chilled. ‘My love, are you cold? Shall I stoke the fire?’ He asks softly. Hook stirs and waves his hand, the flames reignite but he says nothing and remains unmoving, still facing the hearth. Jones’ brows knit together at his silence, ’What is it? Are you not well?’ he entreats as Hook’s trembling becomes visibly pronounced. He tugs at his shoulder and his love rolls onto his back looking up at him piteously, his cheeks shiny and wet with tears.

The deckhand’s eyebrows arch and his mouth forms an O at the sight of his sorrowful expression, ’Please tell me what is wrong! Are you in pain?!’ Jones pleads, reaching for him and hugging him close. ‘I want so much to help you my love,’ he says rocking his partner back and forth in his arms. Hook, now shaking and unable or unwilling to speak, begins to cry in earnest, his face pressed against his lover’s neck. Jones makes no further inquiries, allowing him to vent his emotions while trying to quell his own distress. Whether this is sadness or something else he knows not, but this man needs his comfort nonetheless.

He coos in his ear and pets his hair, ‘I am here with you, let it out my love.’

A conversation must now occur, he would not normally press but these pent up feelings that burst forth when Hook perceives he is alone must be dealt with. He is taken aback of late by these uncharacteristic displays but heartened by them as well, his willingness to expose himself and appear vulnerable, albeit at his urging, is perhaps a portent that will lead to an important change in his mindset. To the position of accepting his assistance without reservation.

Gradually his choked sobs subside, the deckhand lifts his chin with his fingers and studies his tear-stained face distorted by worry and fear, a true blasphemy on such a beautiful visage. Jones wipes the tears away with his thumb and kisses his eyelids, still holding him and swaying side to side as he calms. When his hitching breaths grow further apart Jones stands and walks to the small cart in the corner of the room; several crystal decanters sit on its surface, he removes the stopper from the nearest and splashes a draught of brandy into a small snifter from the shelf below. It is still quite early for alcohol he supposes, but Hook’s nerves appear to be quite frayed.

He hands him the glass and watches as his love tosses back the amber liquid it contains, ’Stay here a moment?’ he says smiling sweetly, then fetches Hook’s clothing cast aside the night before, ‘Dress my love and let us talk.’ Jones pulls on his blouse and breeches then rejoins his companion by the fire and takes his hand, ’Now tell me what troubles you.’

Hook slumps at the question but is resigned to answer, he would ask the same of Jones in a similar circumstance, ’It is not for the faint of heart, are you sure you wish to hear it?’ He asks looking into the deckhand’s eyes.

‘I have told you that I want to share your burden and I meant it. You can tell me anything, I will not judge… I love you.’ Jones replies quietly.

Hook shifts his gaze and stares into fire searching the flames for the right words to adequately express what he feels, ‘I do not know _precisely_ what troubles me my sweet, it is so many conflicting thoughts converging at once,’ he haltingly begins, ‘I have never felt such happiness and semblance of peace as I have in the last months with you. I am terrified of losing it… and I fear the torment you would suffer if I should perish.’

Jones does not wish to hear of such things but he listens with sympathy regardless of his own concerns.

‘I have experienced devastating loss in my many lifetimes and know full well the agony it evokes.’ Hook looks down at their clasped hands as tears begin to leak anew and roll down his face. ’Amongst it all, the darkness that roils within me wraps its tentacles around these thoughts and twists them into images so dreadful I can hardly bear them. The loss of you in countless horrific ways whilst a voice throbs in my ear to abandon all hope, stop now and live. Continue and die. Its tendrils stab and pierce my heart, they probe my mind and wriggle through my flesh. Some moments I fear I will go insane, only you and your goodness sustains me.’

Jones pulls Hook against him and lays his head on his shoulder, his hand soothing the muscles along the curve of Hook’s back, ‘I am so sorry for your pain, though my words ring hollow in the face of such torture.’ Jones contemplates for a moment ‘Did the darkness attack you in this way before we became close? You did not appear to have such visions or painful trauma prior to our joining?’

——————

Hook has worried for some time that this question would be posed, but it is no time for dishonesty, ’No it did not, though I have always struggled to keep it at bay. To maintain some sanity and conscience in my deeds. To right wrongs though admittedly often with a larger wrong. I did not desire to slaughter and destroy indiscriminately, to loose the demon without cause; only inflict damage when it suited my purposes. The conflict has worsened considerably in the past months.’ He looks at the floor, ashamed of his past actions. This is also a new and unfamiliar development, feelings of regret.

’So I am the cause of it…’ Jones whispers

Hook cups the deckhand’s cheek with his hand, ’No! My love for you is the cause of it my sweet, chaos and love are not natural partners. Evil is threatened by light. And unless it is your desire to remove yourself from my company I will not give you up.’

‘But without me your pain would be lessened,’ Jones whimpers, his lips trembling on the verge of tears.

‘Perhaps my love, but I would have nothing to live for with an infinite lifespan ahead. Your loss would be my ruination. I do not say this to keep you here if you wish to leave, it is only the truth.’ Hook sighs and looks into the fire. ’Loving you has changed me forever, I cannot go back to what I once was… and I would die before I will allow any harm to befall you, you must understand,’ he states firmly

Jones leans back, his features resolute, ’You will not die because I will stand in the way of it, I will not leave your side.’ he retorts

Hook squeezes Jones fingers and swipes at his tears with the blunt end of his left arm ’It is not a subject for debate my sweet, I would bend to your every whim save this. I have come to realize that if our mission should fail my fate is sealed, I cannot continue to exist if I remain a threat to you, or others for that matter. I will not.’ He says finally

The deckhand while wishing to support his love in every possible way is exasperated by Hook’s words, ’But we will not fail! Why would you even consider defeat at so early a stage?’ he asks, ‘It is the blackness speaking and you must fight against it! We will not stop until we succeed, you cannot give up hope!,’ Jones beseeched, ‘We have come so far but have many miles left to travel. I will lift you up and carry you if I must,’ he says, his jaw set with conviction.

‘I am frightened that I would injure you if I should lose my way again,’ Hook answers, his face wracked by grief.

‘Then give the dagger to me,’ Jones says matter-of-factly, ‘I will keep it safe and stop you from acting rashly if the darkness overwhelms. You believe I can be trusted, do you not?’

——————

Hook angles away at Jones suggestion. Relinquishing control is not his strongest suit though he has considered this option before. He trusts the deckhand implicitly and while he knows Jones has taken custody of the dagger in the past, he still hesitates to give it up completely. Not only would it place a heavy burden upon his partner’s shoulders, it would mean laying himself bare and surrendering power over his own free will to another. It is a disquieting proposition to be sure, and one that cannot be taken lightly. And would Jones’ possession of the dagger make him a more desirable target by forces seeking to end their quest?

Jones tilts his head at Hook’s pause, seeing the wheels turn behind his eyes. He understands the weight of his question but the pang of his reluctance still bites. It is the reason he had not broached the subject before, fearing the answer; but he masks his disappointment and waits patiently for Hook’s response.

Hook breathes deeply and closes his eyes, if he is truly honest with himself there is a part of him that relishes the darkness despite its consequences, it makes him formidable, powerful and larger than life. Without it he is just a man, weak and… human. But is that not what the deckhand deserves? An equal with whom he can feel safe?

With an almost imperceptible nod he looks up at his companion from under his furrowed brows, ’I thought perhaps we should depart early,’ he says frowning, ‘but that will not solve this problem. I trust you as I have trusted no other… you shall take possession of it. You are right, it is the only way to assure your safety and the security of all.’ With a gesture he disappears in a cloud of red smoke, reappearing seconds later with the dagger in hand. ‘It makes little sense to wait now that the decision has been made,’ Hook says with a crooked grin.

‘When you hold this you may call me to your side and I cannot resist, I must do as you command,’ he clenches his jaw and hands the dagger to Jones, ’Now place it where you will, my sweet. It must remain on your person should its use be required, I have faith that it will only be employed if there is no other alternative.’

Jones looks at the oddly shaped knife in his hand, it’s wavy edge gleaming in the firelight, ‘Of course dearest, I have no wish to force you against your will, I shall put it away right now. Excuse me for a moment?’ Hook nods in agreement and the deckhand leaps up and trots down the hall to the library. He stands in the large room filled with leather-bound books tapping the dagger against his thigh as he considers where to hide it, he moves to the shelf lined with volumes of poetry scanning their titles, his lips curl into a wry grin and he slides the blade between Shelley and Byron. From the doorway its grip is impossible to perceive but easy to access.

He returns to the living room and plops down next to his love, throwing his arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly, ‘I am so proud of you for taking this step, and so honored by your trust in me. I promise I will not fail you,’ he says brightly. ‘I am blessed by your love, that you would go to such lengths and risk so much that we could have a future together.’

He leans back and tucks lock of hair behind Hook’s ear, ’Now smile and kiss me! I would have breakfast and perhaps a stroll to the lake we passed on our way here? I know some fresh air will lighten your mood,’ He moves forward to press his lips against his lover’s mouth, his fingers carding through his thick mane, ‘Sofia baked blueberry muffins!’ He grins, waggling his eyebrows.

Hook laughs and shakes his head at the deckhand’s infectious good nature, finding such pleasure in the smallest of joys.

'I am yours to command, my sweet.’


	12. The lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook and Jones take a stroll and confront two evils.

Garrett had quietly placed the local gazette inside the front door at some point early this morning, Jones sees it while leading Hook to the dining table. If he glanced about, their naked forms curled together by the fire were clearly visible… he blushes imagining that the caretaker was probably scandalized, but that will teach him to leave it outside in the future. Hook chuckles and narrows his eyes at the deckhand’s flushed cheeks, but takes the paper and says nothing.

‘My love I can whip up a meal for myself, it is not necessary for you to go to so much trouble,’ Hook says and lifts his hand, ready to use his magic but the deckhand stops him.

‘No, I would like to do it myself unless you prefer not to wait? It will only take a moment,’ he replies and bends to kiss Hook on the forehead. ‘Read aloud to me whilst I cook?’

Hook winks at him and begins the relate a story about the García’s goat that escaped its pen and devoured the cabbages at the farm next door. Mr. Martínez, understandably irked, is demanding restitution in kind…

Jones smiles listening to Hook’s tenor voice while he gathers ingredients, he knows his love prefers savory fare in the morning and fries some bacon and eggs in a cast iron skillet, slices a fresh tomato then toasts some bread on the hotplate. He chooses the largest blueberry muffin for himself and begs Hook to conjure coffee as he delivers their plates, he has developed a taste for its strong flavor; nutty with hints of chocolate that pair excellently with sweet. He prefers its energizing effect to start the day and makes a mental note to procure some beans prior to their departure.

He takes the chair beside Hook and places his napkin across his lap, they often sit side by side while dining or close at the corner wishing to be within arm’s length of each other. They know they are quite ridiculous at times in their desire to be constantly connected, skin tingling in anticipation of a loving touch, the thrill is unflagging for them both; but there is also an unspoken strength and support through physical closeness that is needed, especially now. The deckhand is acutely aware of Hook’s mood and his grip on the light is fragile this day. He is not weak, far from it… embattled is a more appropriate term Jones supposes. Hook on the other hand understands Jones’ need for affection and welcomes his kind presence with a gentle brush of fingers on his thigh, an intimate smile and a soft kiss as simple demonstrations to reassure that he is loved beyond measure.

Hook snaps his fingers and a small pewter pitcher appears on the table, ‘try some cream in your coffee my love, it mellows the bitter notes. If you do not care for it I will make you another,’ he remarks. He is hungrier than he thought and digs into his meal with gusto, ’The bacon is perfectly crisp my sweet,’ he compliments.

‘Thank you my love! I am unused to the cooking equipment in this kitchen, I am proud that it is not burnt,’ Jones laughs then pours a splash of fresh cream into his cup and stirs it with his teaspoon, he takes a sip and his eyes light up, ‘I protest that you have not shared this delicious addition before!’ He exclaims then closes his eyes and takes another sip. He pauses a moment before beginning to eat and sets down his cup then turns to look at his companion, ‘You must not suffer in silence, we are partners you and I,’ he states firmly.

‘I know,’ Hook says somberly, ‘the onset is sudden at times. Before I realize it, it is upon me… but let us not talk about it further just now, I would appreciate this meal and your handsome company,’ he grins crookedly and presses his fingers to Jones’ cheek. ’So my love, have you found the house to your liking?’ He asks.

‘Oh yes,’ the deckhand smiles brilliantly, his eyes sweeping around the room and gesturing at the view from the large window at its end, ‘it is such a lovely place, and to be amongst so many treasures that you have chosen, I see your aesthetic everywhere I look. Charming and unique and as beautiful as you are,’ he answers then leans to place a tender kiss on Hook’s lips before turning back to the sweet treat on the dish before him.

—————————

Now fortified by a warm muffin and two strips of bacon stolen from Hook, the deckhand grins at his lover with a sparkle of excitement in his eyes, ’Shall we take some air my love?’ He asks. Hook is still introspective following his emotional outburst but stewing inside on such a gorgeous day will not improve his temper, he cannot deny the irrepressible exuberance of Jones and eventually relents to his needling. Soon they are walking along the dirt lane toward the lake and he concedes that Jones was right, he does feel lighter in the sunshine and fresh air, it has been some years since he walked this way and took the time to survey his surroundings, and it appears quite different. Young trees that were mere saplings when he saw them last and mature verdant foliage lining either side of the thoroughfare.

The golden maple boughs arching over their heads have lost more leaves since their arrival, the season inches toward autumn and before long their limbs will be bare; for now they still create a vivid lemon colored tunnel to pass through. He had loved this property, the house and its magnificent location high on a hill, it is why he purchased it of course, but it was mainly a place to lay his head between voyages and never felt like a home until now.

He generally yearns for the sea when away from it, and while he knows they will set sail again soon, he is curious to discover the longing has markedly changed. His desire now is to share the journey with the love of his life, to enjoy the open water with him rather than the journey itself. It is strange not to hear its call so loudly as it has been in the past, having spent centuries aboard ship traveling the world, he oddly no longer cares to rush back to the Jolly Roger even though important tasks lie ahead.

His only concern is the man who walks beside him. It has been one hundred years or more since he last put another before his own wishes, driven by revenge and a rapacious ambition to seek out only what pleased him, this new focus on matters of the heart is territory he has not been acquainted with for a very long time, and selfless has not been a part of his vocabulary.

Jones is such a kind soul, he cannot fathom treating him with anything other than respect. It is why he fears the darkness more so now than ever before, the thought of causing the deckhand the kind of pain and heartache he has inflicted on others is so repugnant and sickening to him that it cannot be allowed to happen. He wishes Jones had not left the dagger behind though he feels in control at the moment, he thinks perhaps he will insist he carry it with him in the future just to be safe, it is not worth the risk.

—————————

They takes turns kicking a stone as they stroll, when it goes astray Jones skips to the edge of the road to retrieve it and correct its path, while talking excitedly about his desire to remove his boots and wade along the water’s edge. ‘Do you suppose the lake is very cold?’ He asks. ‘Yes my love, I suspect it is brisk at this time of year, the climate here so far south of the equator remains quite cool year round,’ Hook slides his arm around Jones waist and tugs him closer, ‘We can sail toward warmer weather whenever you wish it my sweet.’

Jones turns his head and kisses Hook’s cheek, ‘I am accustomed to the chill and prefer it over hot temperatures, but it would be lovely to relax upon a sandy beach with you,’ he says. ‘Are you feeling better now? I am galled that our kinship has caused this trouble,’ Jones remarks scowling, ‘it is not fair that you should be punished for the love of another.’ He stubs his toe angrily in the dust, and leans into Hook’s shoulder.

‘Many things in this life are unfair my love, but I would endure it again a thousand times over for the love of you,’ Hook answers.

Jones grins shyly, ‘I would rather you did not endure it at all but it is lovely to hear you say it. Oh look, I see the lake up ahead!’ Jones says bouncing with joy.

Hook laughs and waves his hand and they appear at the shore in an instant. Jones runs to lean against a large boulder and remove his boots and roll up the legs of his breeches, ‘Black sand!’ He exclaims, ‘I have not seen black sand before!!’ Hook watches him walk along the beach, his toes gripping the wet earth then wading into the lake deeply enough to wet his pant legs despite the fact they are turned back above his knees, ‘It IS very cold but look how clear…’ Jones says animatedly gesturing for his love to join him.

—————————

Hook flicks his wrist and conjures a small bench using a downed tree trunk nearby, the deckhand watches in fascination as twigs and vines fly through the air, twisting and weaving themselves together in an intricate composition then moving into position to form a back to lean against. Jones is stunned by its beautiful artistry and natural design that fits so perfectly into the landscape. Hook waves his hand again and rocks roll over the sand and arrange themselves in a circle, wood and brush gather together to create a pile, Hook snaps his fingers and a fire flares to life.

‘You will be grateful for warmth in a moment or two I suspect,’ He says grinning then shrugs out of his coat and sits on the bench to pull off his boots. The wind is cold on his skin and whistles through his blouse as he enters the water, gasping at the icy chill on his feet, ‘My love, the water is freezing!’ He says wide-eyed. Jones laughs gleefully ‘Yes, but it is exhilarating do you not agree?’

‘Shocking perhaps, exhilarating I am not entirely sure,’ Hook replies. He wades over to Jones and looks down observing the pebbled sand at their feet, they stand together still as statues watching tiny fish swim to and fro around their ankles. Jones wiggles his toes and the fish dart away, Hook takes his lover’s hand and turns to look at him watching the corners of his mouth curl into a sweet smile.

‘Come love, let us warm ourselves by the fire before we are frozen solid,’ he chuckles quietly then leads the deckhand to the bench he created and dons his coat against the cold. He is far more interested in kissing his companion than warming his feet to be honest and moves to capture his lips, reddened by the wind and the chill of the day. They kiss passionately until they are both aroused and breathing heavily.

Jones breaks the kiss then drops his gaze to his lap, ‘May I ask you a personal question?’

‘Of course love, what do you wish to know?’ Hook answers, his lips trailing along Jones jaw then finding an earlobe to nibble

‘How many lovers have you had?’ He asks.

‘What??’ Hook asks, surprised by this question. He tenses at the strange prickling sensation along his spine and twists uncomfortably in an effort to relieve it.

‘How many lovers have you had…’ Jones repeats and looks up at Hook, his eyes innocent and clear blue.

‘Why do you ask my sweet?’ Hook’s brows knit together and he angles away slightly to better see his deckhand’s face.

‘I only wonder that is all, you do not have to answer. You are so confident and your kisses so masterful, I presume you have had much practice making love to another… I sometimes wish I were more experienced and could better please you,’ he answers softly then shifts his gaze back to his lap, his fingers nervously fidget with the buttons on his vest. Perhaps he should not have asked this question but he is genuinely curious.

‘My love, in truth I have had many lovers in the past. I have cared more deeply for some than for others but the feelings I have for you are without comparison, and your kiss is wonderful! What brought this on? Do I seem displeased, because I assure you that I am not…’ Hook replies then pinches the bridge of his nose trying to shake the sudden piercing pain behind his eyes. His legs feel restless, he stands and begins to pace back and forth.

’I only want for your happiness, when you are sad I would find ways to change it,’ Jones says and looks worriedly at his love, he seems agitated and now he regrets his inquiry. ‘I am sorry for asking I did not mean to upset you, please sit with me?’ He entreats patting the space beside him with his hand.

Hook continues to stalk a path in front of the bench, the tail of his coat dragging through the fire unnoticed, frenzied embers dance in his wake; his fingers stretch and strain then clench into a fist. He stops abruptly then turns on his heel to face the deckhand, gesturing wildly with his hook, his features dark and obviously annoyed.

’Do you suggest I am some sort of Lothario with hundreds of lovers tossed aside and forgotten? I cannot comprehend why you would insult me in such a way, have I not done everything in my power to please you dear Prince?’ He grates, his speech clipped and mocking, ‘I am who I am and I cannot change it. Perhaps you are unsatisfied by _my_ lovemaking? Have I not expressed the appropriate level of enjoyment to suit you… _my sweet?!’_ he barks, his voice has risen to a shout and the deckhand flinches away, his eyes wide with fear at Hook’s rapid change in demeanor and the bite of his words. He has never spoken so harshly to him without cause.

Jones stands and reaches for his lover’s hand and holds it firmly but Hook snatches it away, ‘Of course I am not unsatisfied,’ he coos grasping at Hook’s sleeve, Hook’s fingers begin to spark and glow with magic causing painful waves of electricity to crawl up the deckhand’s arm.

’Dearest, look at me!’ Jones says sharply.

Hook is trembling with rage. His head snaps grudgingly toward the deckhand, sneering at him with disgust.

Jones pulls him tightly into his arms and looks into his eyes, black threads swirl through his irises obscuring their color. Hook stands rigid, every muscle tense, his hand contorted into a claw, poised to lash out… and Jones is frightened but determined to calm him, the demon is speaking, of this he is certain. It desires to push him away, to weaken his resolve but he will not have it.

‘Darling, it is me,’ he soothes, stroking Hook’s cheek with his thumb, ‘I love you and I know you love me. I will not hear this dark nonsense,’ he whispers and leans to kiss him.

And as it was that terrible day on the Jolly Roger, with his pure kiss Hook’s gaze clears and confused recognition returns. His face breaks with remorse as he remembers his actions and his abusive language, he slumps against Jones, clutching at him. ‘My God what is wrong with me that I would shout such dreadful things at you, I am so sorry. Please forgive me,’ he begs, tears filling his eyes.

‘It was not you and there is nothing to forgive,’ Jones soothes, ‘Shh now, all is well,’ he says softly, his fingers combing through his lover’s hair.

—————————

They are distracted and do not notice the large shadow moving toward them from the black depths of the lake until it is too late. A tentacle wraps around Jones’ calf and he is unceremoniously yanked through the air and dragged into the frigid water. In the blink of an eye he disappears beneath the surface, the only evidence of his location are a few ripples and bubbles then nothing.

Hook runs after him shouting ‘Jones!!’ again and again. He holds a fireball in his hand but he cannot see where to cast it and fears injuring his love if his aim is off its mark. Frantic, he dives in after him, the water so clear only moments before is murky with churned up silt from the lake bed, he comes up for air and scans the area searching for any sign, he is shivering violently and he knows if he is this cold, Jones is in terrible danger of freezing if he does not drown first. ‘Jones!!’ He screams again. Pale fingertips break the surface in the distance, Hook closes his eyes and channels all of his power into his hand then scoops through the water lifting every creature that resides in the lake into the air.

A huge black squid emerges with a limp deckhand dangling from its deadly embrace, its tentacles slither and clench, squeezing the life from him while another arm snakes around Jones’ neck as he looks on. Hook’s face is menacing, he is livid and terrified and bares his teeth; he would tear through the monster’s slimy flesh with them if he were close enough. There should be no such animal in this place, what is this evil that attacks his love?! He grits his teeth and raises his hand as if gripping an invisible neck, strangling the beast. The kraken twists in agony above the water and tightens its hold on Jones. ‘Release him demon!!’ Hook shrieks.


	13. The kraken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evil kraken has attacked our deckhand, the fight and its aftermath threaten to tear the lovers apart.

Hook tightens his choking grip and slowly backs out of the icy water, his arm is shaking with cold and effort to lift the huge animal and asphyxiate it simultaneously; his eyes remain locked on Jones every second searching for signs of life. The deckhand’s head lolls from side to side, his arms and legs hang listlessly like a doll as the creatures tentacles coil and cinch around his waist and jerk him about, using his body like a shield to protect its grotesque shape from a frontal attack.

Hook is furious and roars again at the gigantic kraken, ‘Let him go or I swear by all the Gods, I will tear you limb from limb!’ The beast squeals in pain, its free tentacles flail in the air slapping at Jones’ face and torso as Hook looks on in horror, ’stop it, STOP!!’ He screams and clenches his fist.

The demon begins emitting a garbled noise that sounds something like language, and suddenly Hook can hear it speak in his mind; its voice a grating screech that causes him to grimace and screw up his face with loathing.

‘Your desire to _DESTROY_ me will _FAIL_ this day _Dark One_ , as will your _fecKLESS mission_ ,’ it wails evilly.

‘Why are you here in this place!! Jones has caused you no harm, release him and take me instead,’ Hook shouts, ‘I vow that I will not fight you!’

‘I do not _WANT_ you! I am driven by the _darKNESS_ as are you _my VENGEFUL friend_ , and I would have you _BRoKEN_ and _ruined_ and _cripPLED_ by loss; the seeds of _MADNESS_ sown once again. I will not _murder_ your LOVER _outright_ , but I will _TAKE him_ from you nonetheless,’ it cackles insanely then rotates to expose the maw at its center. A massive black beak protrudes from a slick cylindrical siphon, it opens its jaws and bites down on the deckhand’s shoulder slicing deeply through the muscle and bone. Ink spews out in a cloud of black, soaking Jones’ body, then the monster rears back and flings him like a bullet toward Hook.

He has no other option than to release the fiend and use his sorcery to stop the deckhand’s flight, capturing him in a stream of magic he lowers him gently to the sand. The kraken’s maniacal laughter rings in Hook’s head along with its final words before it disappears in a swirling vortex of pitch, ‘The darkness _CANNOT be defeated_.’

Hook runs to kneel beside his love, and without thinking he touches him and is instantly paralyzed by the squid ink that coats his unmoving form. His companion still breathes, but he is frozen in place and forced to look on helplessly at Jones’ wan face and blue lips, and watch as the blood pours out from the ragged gash at his shoulder onto the beach. He strains at his bonds to no avail, he is unable to give aid until the effects of the ink wear off… and he has never hated himself and his dark countenance more than in this moment. He is to blame for this. Tears stream down his face, ’Hold on my sweet, I beg you do not leave me,’ he pleads.

Useless and disgusted by his earlier behavior he sobs like a child over his best friend. He is stricken by the thought that his harsh words might be the last Jones will ever hear, his pathetic apology notwithstanding. What a worthless excuse for a man he is. This simple brave human who lays unconscious before him has the strength of legions, yet he with all of his magical prowess and feigned command of his own will, whines and cries incapable of controlling himself. He struggles to move his arms and when he cannot he bellows at the sky like a cornered animal.

——————

It is so dim, his vision is clouded by mist. ‘My love I am lost, where are you?’ Jones whimpers, ‘I cannot see you, please will you not help me?’ He stands with difficulty and struggles to gain his balance then blindly takes tentative steps forward; the ground is oddly soft and uneven beneath his feet, he stumbles but catches himself and reaches out with his hand to feel his way through the blackness. He is weak and cold to the bone.

Something brushes his face, like strands of hair or threads of a spiderweb and he claws at it to swipe it away, the excruciating pain in his shoulder blossoms into an unbearable agony that takes his breath away. A burning sensation spreads across his chest and down his arm, his fingertips are on fire, this must be more than just a wound he thinks.

He lurches on but without warning his feet will no longer obey him, the world tilts sideways and he falls to his hands and knees, so ill and disoriented he begins to gag and retch, vomiting water and bile onto the undulating damp surface; its texture feels strangely like skin but it is too dark to see. He crawls not knowing where he seeks to go, only wishing to escape this frightening place… but the pain is too acute. He keels over onto his side and curls into a ball, what little light that remains closes to a pin point and is extinguished.

——————

Hook finally breaks free of the ink’s prison and curses loudly in frustration but acts quickly, waving his hand to strip Jones of his clothing and clean the black smudges from his skin. He closes his eyes and a healing beam emanates from his palm; his hand passes back and forth over the wound on Jones’ shoulder for some length of time, but it will not close, and he does not wake.

He shakes his head at this failure but continues along the deckhand’s body, focusing on his ribs and mid-section; red circular marks left behind by the beast’s suckers clamped around him like a vise stripe his ice cold skin. Hook works until he has healed what he can and gathers his love into his arms, transporting them both back to the house with a flick of his wrist. He ignites a raging fire in the bedroom hearth and places the deckhand tenderly onto to bed then covers him with warm blankets. Jones is feverish and mumbling his name, Hook takes his hand and he cries out in pain, groaning at his touch.

What devilry is this that his magic cannot cure? He inspects the edges of Jones’ injury, though the bleeding has slowed, his torn flesh is splayed open and tinged with green. Thin trails branch out from the bite like a network of tributaries carrying the evil toxin through his skin, and he has no means or knowledge of how to cure it. Jones moans softly, his color is pallid but his heartbeat and breathing appear to be steady for the time being. Hook bends to kiss him and brush a lock of hair aside on his forehead, his mind whirling through possible solutions.

What lasting damage would this venomous bite do? He has never heard of such a thing and he thought he had heard every yarn. He supposes those caught in the clutches of such a demon have not survived to tell their tale, after centuries at sea he would surely have known such a story. He conjures clean bandages and a bowl of warm water then carefully cleans the wound with a soft cloth, Jones twists and strains under his ministrations but it cannot be helped. ’I am sorry for causing you further distress my love, I _will_ find a way to fix you.’ He says quietly.

Hook gently wraps the deckhand’s shoulder, winding the cloth around his chest and under his arm to secure it, the wound must be covered and kept dry until he can find a cure. He prays he can eventually repair his ravaged limb, he will lose much use of it if he cannot. His blood boils looking at Jones handsome face distorted by pain, he would scorch the world and lay waste to all who cross his path if he allowed himself to unleash his wrath at this insult… but Jones would not want it, and he will not give in to his baser instincts.

——————

He hears a knock at the front door and scowls then transports himself to answer it, he is irritated by the interruption, but relieved to see Garrett standing on the stone slab outside with a letter in his hand. ‘A message for you Captain, a rider delivered it while you were out this morning’ he says, his eyes widen at Hook’s disheveled appearance. He is still wet from his dive into the lake, patches of sand cling to his coat and covers his breeches. The kohl he uses to rim his eyes is streaked down his cheeks, his hair hangs in lank strands on his forehead. Hook absently rakes his trembling fingers through his dark mane and takes the letter from him.

’Sir, are you quite alright?’ the caretaker asks uncertainly.

Hook’s head snaps up at the question, he is overwhelmed by the events of the day and it did not occur to him to ask the caretaker for help and he is grateful for his inquiry and concern. ’J-Jones has been injured…’ he stutters, ‘poisoned by a kraken’s bite and I cannot heal him! He needs help… a doctor perhaps and an apothecary. Can you fetch them immediately? Money is no object Garrett, and time is of the essence…’ Hook begs, his words tumbling out rapidly. He is shaking now and beside himself with anxiety.

‘A kraken?!? By the Gods, how in the world… _in the lake??’_ he asks with disbelief but he can see tears well up in Hook’s eyes and thinks better of more queries or lingering for answers, he accepts the word of his employer no matter how improbable it seems. The Captain has never been false and certainly not crazy in all of the years he has known him, and he will not question his wits now. He reaches out to pat Hook’s arm, ‘Of course Sir, I will head into town forthwith.’

‘Please hurry, Garrett, he is in a bad way,’ Hook pleads.

Garrett nods and rushes off to saddle his mare and gallop toward the village. He has never seen the Captain so distraught, it is quite clear the situation is extremely urgent. Jones is the kindest of men, and they do appear to be very happy together… the Captain’s temperament is wholly changed by his company.

——————

Jones opens his eyes and blinks several times, wondering if he has lost his sight; He can see nothing but black. The air seems thick, cold yet humid and it is difficult to breathe. He recalls being pulled from Hook’s arms and submerged beneath the freezing waters of the lake, his body bumping along through the shallows then into the deep. It happened so suddenly, only a fleeting memory of his lover and the terror on his face remains in his mind’s eye, then shocking cold and a suffocating grip. He lifts his head, the side of his face is wet and sticky with slime, or blood, or both, and he feels dizzy. So dizzy.

The pain flares anew and he winces, clenching his jaw against it. What is this place and where is Hook?! He calls out to him again, ‘Hook!’ He says weakly, ‘My love, please answer me…’ but he does not respond and Jones is dreadfully afraid of the reason; he is dead and this is hell. An eternity of unending pain and darkness is his punishment for all of his ill deeds… but _what deeds_ exactly? He cannot put his finger on any past action so wicked that he would be damned for the doing of them.

His mind is bombarded by images of his childhood and the sound of William’s laughter. He can see his sweet freckled face shimmering before him, and the memory of his own hand clutching pale fingers for the last time before his friend was taken away to lie on his deathbed… ‘My dearest darling, do not despair. I will see you again,’ he promised and smiled a tiny smile, but it was an oath that he could not keep. Perchance the other schoolboy’s slurs were correct and they _were_ an aberration. Their closeness unnatural and deserving of ridicule; and the beginning of a greater crime, the physical and emotional love he shares with Hook. Now everyone and everything that he has ever cared for has been ripped away, and he is condemned to exist here alone forever.

He closes his eyes again and tries to shut out the visions that plague him.

‘No!’ He states firmly into the dark, their love is good and beautiful and strong… and by the Gods _he is worthy of it._ It is only fear and this sickness he feels that causes him to think such thoughts, the darkness manipulates and tries to trick and confuse, and he must steel himself against it!! If Hook is still alive, he will be searching for him of this he is certain. And if he is not, well, he cannot conceive of that possibility just now. He will wait for him until his last breath.

——————

Hook hears Jones’ weak cry and snaps his fingers, appearing at his bedside in and instant. ‘I am here my sweet, can you hear me?’ The poison has spread further, his arm and chest are nearly covered with green vein-like branches and now they have crawled up his neck and begun to creep across his face. Hook applies his healing magic again, hoping beyond hope that it will do some good, but his attempts are in vain, there is no reversal that he can observe.

He has little confidence that any doctor can cure this if he cannot, but he will allow them to try. A witch or a wizard is needed. And a powerful one. He transports himself to the library and begins to peruse various titles, there are several books on poisons, potions and elixirs and a large volume that discusses spells and sorcery. His collection does not include many topics that do not deal with the real world, at least as he once saw it, and unfortunately he has not had the need to add such information in the years since the darkness invaded him.

He gathers the selections and is set to return and sit at the desk to search for an answer, when he sees the hilt of the dagger jutting out from between two books of poetry. He shakes his head at Jones hiding place but leaves it be, and adds Shelley to his stack then whisks himself back to the bedroom. ‘Where is Garrett?!’ He sighs heavily, impatient for this latest traumatic chapter to end and his love to return to wellness, Jones has been sorely abused in their time together.

The caretaker’s name sparks a recollection, the letter he delivered is damp and crumpled in the pocket of his coat thrown over the chair. He stands to retrieve it and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he is shocked by his unkempt visage and it is no wonder Garrett was taken aback.

With a gesture he dons a dry blouse and breeches then reaches for the decanter on the desk, splashing a tall draught of brandy into a crystal tumbler on the adjacent tray. He takes a long pull from it welcoming the burn of the liquid as he swallows, then breaks the seal on the envelope and skims its contents. It is a reply from the Admiral of the fleet, Jones has been fully discharged from service. The words on the page are grudging to be sure but the Admiral did not mistake his threats and did as he requested. Signed and sealed by the man himself. Choking back tears, he turns to Jones and whispers, ‘You are free, my sweet.’

——————

Hook sits lost in his study but tense and alert to Jones’ every movement. The gentle rap on the doorframe and the sound of Garrett’s voice startles him from his research, ‘Captain? The doctor and his assistant are here along with the Apothecary,’ he says then bows slightly and takes his leave. ’Thank you Garrett,’ hook calls after him.

A tall man in his elder years introduces himself as Dr. Martin Fleming, his nurse and oldest daughter Anne trails behind with Mr. Flores the pharmacist.

Hook shakes the hands of each but wastes no time explaining the harrowing events that took place earlier that day. His tale is greeted by huffs of skepticism and he struggles to keep his temper in check.

‘You do know who I am do you not?’ He says sharply, ‘you would be wise to heed my words, my mood could be quite unpredictable this day. Now go about your work and I would warn you to be thorough and use every method at your disposal to cure him.’ He says finally before moving toward Jones’ still form.

He lovingly pets his hair and presses the back of his hand against his cheek, ‘My sweet, these kind people are here to help you,’ he says softly then shoots a piercing glance at the group who now huddle together at the foot of the bed. ‘I will be nearby if you need me,’ he assures him then snaps his fingers to stoke the fire. ‘I will leave you now to examine him but I am only a whisper away,’ he looks pointedly at the frightened trio whilst gathering the books on the desk then disappears in a cloud of red smoke.

——————

Hook pours himself another brandy and takes a sip, he knew a physician was a fruitless endeavor, they do not believe him and clearly have no earthly understanding of this poison. He tosses back the alcohol and looks at the empty crystal tumbler in his hand. The glints of light sparkling on its surface remind him of the night before, lying together naked and sated, the flames dancing in his lover’s eyes. How he wishes he could turn back time and return to that happy moment. ‘Damn that beast to hell!’ he shouts and throws the glass in anger and frustration, smashing it in the fire.

Sophia appears from the kitchen, unnerved by his exclamation and the sound of breaking glass, ‘¡Dios mío!’ she gasps, standing with her arms akimbo. Hook slumps onto the sofa and glances at her, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with sorrow… and her heart breaks for him. Garrett had haltingly explained the dubious circumstances behind Jones’ illness before he left, ’The master of the house is quite tense and worried, perhaps a hearty stew for this evening’s meal?’ he suggested before exiting.

She is not so quick to dismiss Hook’s account as the others have been. She has witnessed much in her life, some incredible feats in the past few days alone performed by the man suffering near the fireplace, she was a true believer in magic even before taking on this temporary position. Her husband’s life was saved by a witch when no doctor could help him.

She laments that Jones is unwell, she had immediately liked him and his youthful delight for her food; he crept into the kitchen when her back was turned to steal a morsel at every opportunity. She laughed and shooed him away but was not-so-secretly pleased by his antics, he grinned at her and whispered ‘blueberry muffins’ as he scampered out of the reach of her spoon. She can imagine his glee when he saw them this morning, and she would see him smile again.

She considers a moment then walks over to the cart in the corner, pours another brandy and hands it to Hook, then picks up the small broom next to the hearth and begins the sweep up the shards of glass on the floor. ‘Do not bother with that,’ he sighs then waves his hand and the pieces disappear, ‘Help yourself to a drink if you wish it.’

It is not appropriate for a cook to indulge and be so familiar with an employer but she does not care, it was his invitation to partake after all. She prefers whiskey however, and splashes two fingers from a second decanter into a glass for herself. It is smooth as silk on her tongue and must be very expensive indeed. She would help him if she can and decides to offer it if he will listen. She breathes deeply then sits next to Hook on the small couch and begins to relate the story of La hechicera.


	14. The Sorceress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook seeks to cure the kraken's poisonous bite. Magic always comes with a price.

Hook wonders to himself why this woman with whom he is barely acquainted has chosen to settle in for a visit, but he is too numb to care. He must check on Jones in a moment but company whilst he waits is a fine distraction; he makes no distinction between himself and those paid to serve, though if Jones is not close by he usually prefers the solitude of his own thoughts. He can see the cook is concerned however, she has opened her mouth several as if trying to decide where to begin then stopped herself to further reflect, he looks at her and smiles wanly then returns his attention to the flames.

’I have lived in this village all of my life,’ Sophia haltingly begins, ‘and have heard rumors of the Sorceress for nearly as long. It was not until three years ago when my husband was bitten by a magical beast that the legend became my truth, she saved him and was the only person who could.’

Hook’s interest is suddenly piqued, he sets his drink aside and turns his body toward the cook, sliding his knee up onto the sofa to face her, fully engaged now by the beginnings of her story, a look of hope on his face. Sofia takes his hand between hers and gently squeezes his fingers, ‘I am sorry for your friend and would help you both if I can,’ she says

‘Please continue!’ He says eagerly, leaning toward her to listen intently until a tiny cry from the bedroom meets his ears and he jerks his head toward the hall. ‘I am sorry, I must see about Jones but I would hear your tale, wait here for me? I shall return in a moment,’ He says then disappears.

He transports himself to the bedroom, quickly taking in the scene, the pharmacist glances sideways at him and wrings his hands by the fire whilst Doctor Fleming leans over Jones with Anne at his side. The deckhand whimpers even in his unconscious state, his face as white as the sheet on which he lays. Hook is alarmed and lurches toward the bed to see blood pouring profusely from a deep cut at the crook of Jones’ elbow, a basin catches the fluid and it is nearly half-full. ‘What is the meaning of this!’ Hook roars at the flinching trio.

Doctor Fleming looks afraid but still haughty in his manner and replies confidently, though his eyes dart from the bowl to his daughter’s wide-eyed expression, ’Sir, we can find no antidote for this poison,’ he remarks gesturing toward the empty vials and tonics spread out on the desk, ‘bleeding him seemed to be wisest course of action, drain some of the poison and let him rebuild his blood volume to combat the rest.’

‘But look at him!’ Hook barks and waves his hand, clearing the glass bottles on the desk to smash into the wall beside it. ’He is too weak, you are killing him!!’ He reaches for Anne’s arm, yanking her out of the way and clenches his fist, an invisible vise clamps around the doctor’s neck and he begins to choke and clutch at his throat, his face red as a beet. ‘I summoned you to help him are you blind?! Anyone with eyes can see his condition, I should end you right here where you stand,’ he grinds out through gritted teeth and squeezes tighter. Anne leaps at Hook’s back, pounding him with her fists and scratching at his face ’Stop it! Let him go you monster!!’ She shrieks.

It would take only a small movement to break this man’s neck and another to turn his daughter to ash. Hook’s eyes flit to his lover’s face, so pale and nearly covered with green; he sees him in his mind’s eye on the deck of their ship shouting _'Stop! One death is enough, I would not have you responsible for another no matter how valid the reason!'_ Jones begged him to spare the pirates even though they would have killed him had he not turned up when he did. He did not say this because he felt some special attachment to those brutes, though it was ultimately the righteous thing to do, he urged him to stop for his own sake. To prove that he was stronger than his darkest impulses, to implore him not to further blacken his heart.

His companion is the most selfless of men he has ever known, and wants only for his love to be happy and free, and he will not let his fury get the best of him now.

‘Get out!’ Hook bellows, releasing the doctor and gesturing toward the door. Anne rushes to help her father as he gasps to catch his breath, she whips her head to stare at Hook with such venom that surely if she had magic he would have expired on the spot, he must admit she is brave. ’Now! Before I change my mind…’ Hook commands

Sophia watches the three visitors run to the door from her place on the sofa, she could hear Hook’s shouts of course and wonders gravely if the opportunity to help his young companion has passed. She hopes that is not the case and tosses back the remainder of her drink to fortify herself then creeps silently down the hall to the bedroom and peers inside.

Hook snaps his fingers with disgust and the bowl filled with the deckhand’s blood disappears, ‘What have they done to you my sweet?’ He coos then closes the incision on his arm with healing magic. He tenderly strokes his lover’s forehead then begins to gently move his arm back to his side but once again Jones screams in pain at his touch. Hook recoils and rakes his hand through his hair, his shoulders trembling and shaking.

——————

Jones opens his eyes, his face frozen in a grimace. The pain in his arm is unbearable and he writhes on the damp ground screaming into the darkness, his fingers burn as though pressed against a hot stove. The wound on his shoulder throbs incessantly, it must be infected or soon will be he thinks and without aid it will kill him. Thank the Gods for that, an end to this suffering perhaps, but it could take days. He has no earthly idea how long he has been here, it seems like an eternity. Hook either cannot find him or has given up the search, he is not coming.

——————

Hook hears Sophia’s footstep approach and turns to look at her, his cheeks wet with tears, ‘My touch causes him agony!! Please help me,’ he pleads, and grasps her arm, ‘I cannot lose him. I will be lost forever if he dies.’

Sophia is horrified by Jones’ sickly green pallor, his lips white and bloodless he looks very ill indeed. The injury to his shoulder leaks through the bandage in a spreading bloom of red.

‘Has his wound been stitched?’ She asks

‘I could not close it, the poison must first be cured,’ he answers gazing at his love, his breathing is so shallow now… Hook is suddenly wracked by sobs, terrified and helpless he grips Sofia’s sleeve like a lifeline.

‘Let us try to make him more comfortable, help him lean forward.’ She says softly then walks to the far side of the bed, Hook nods and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, then cautiously slides his arm under Jones’ shoulders and eases him off the pillows whilst Sophia plumps and replaces them. ’There, sitting up a bit may help him to breathe, he did not seem to have pain when you lifted him,’ she observes.

‘What of this La hechicera you spoke of??’ Hook asks, his voice panicked and shrill

‘Come, we should speak out of his earshot, though I do not think he can hear us…’ she remarks sadly.

Hook’s brows knit together, ‘Of course you are right,’ he glances at Jones then leads her from the room.

’I believe she can help him but fetching her here will require some coaxing, I pray she remembers me. There will be a price and I do not know what she will ask of you,’ Sofia warns as they walk down the hall.

‘Garrett will arrange to take you wherever you need to go,’ Hook says, then removes her cloak from the closet by the door and helps her into it. She turns toward him and touches his cheek with her palm, ‘Worry not, your love will sustain him until he is cured, it is clear how important he is to you.’ She says smiling, ‘I will explain to Garrett, go sit with him. I am sure that your presence is soothing… and there is hot stew in the kitchen, please eat something!’

When Sophia is gone he leans against the door and closes his eyes, ‘Please hurry,’ he whispers. He can smell the aroma of food in the air but could not eat a bite, his stomach is so unsettled the thought of it is nauseating. He walks to the kitchen and removes the large kettle from the low fire and sets it aside, there is a new batch of muffins, lemon this time it seems… and seeing them causes a fresh spate of tears. All who encounter the deckhand fall victim to his charms, he is an extremely likable chap and such a kind and good man.

It has not been very long since he fell into this poisoned sleep, but Hook is desperately lonely without him. Just knowing he was nearby reading a book or toying with some plaything he found, so many of his habits that Hook would roll his eyes at before are now the most endearing traits any human could have. He looks out the kitchen window at the garden, its long grasses swaying in the breeze calms him.

He exits the house through the rear door and bends to pluck a few wildflowers for Jones’ bedside, tears continue to roll down his face unheeded. What is this crying? He has cried more in the past few weeks than in his entire lifetime, but weeping over the love of his life as he lies deathly ill is not so strange he supposes. But he must screw up his courage, if there is any chance that his companion is aware of his surroundings, sobbing at his bedside will do little besides frighten him.

Hook retrieves the Delft bud vase from the display cabinet in the dining room, fills it with water and arranges the flowers, then picks up the volume of Shelley from the stack of books he selected earlier. Thumbing through the pages he wonders if perhaps Keats would be more uplifting in this moment but there are several verses here that the deckhand is fond of. He breathes deeply and returns the bedroom, placing the small bouquet on the bedside table and smiling at Jones, he moves the chair from the desk and sits beside him.

‘What would you like to hear my love?’ He asks brightly, but no reply from his lips can be heard. ’ _The Cloud_ is one of your favorites I believe, shall we begin?’

 _I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,_  
_From the seas and the streams;_  
_I bear light shade for the leaves when laid_  
_In their noonday dreams._  
_From my wings are shaken the dews that waken_  
_The sweet buds every one,_  
_When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,_  
_As she dances about the sun._  
_I wield the flail of the lashing hail,_  
_And whiten the green plains under,_  
_And then again I dissolve it in rain,  
_ _And laugh as I pass in thunder._

_——————_

The pain is less now, perhaps his nerve endings are immune to it after having shrieked in agony for so long. A dull ache remains and it is welcome by comparison. He is afraid to move for fear of igniting a new fire in his fingertips but risks craning his neck to peer into the haze. He sees the dimmest glow on the horizon or what he perceives to be sky meeting ground, he cannot trust his perception of space and time, this faintest light could be leagues from here but he is warmed by it nonetheless.

 _I sift the snow on the mountains below,_  
_And their great pines groan aghast;_  
_And all the night 'tis my pillow white,  
_ _While I sleep in the arms of the blast._

The passage pushes its way into his thoughts and Jones smiles for the first time since finding himself trapped in this place, his love has not given up, he is reading to him. He relaxes into the soft surface and watches the light ebb and flow, changing color from golden to rose then violet to blue.

——————

Hook reads late into the night, Jones has been peaceful though the green tendrils nearly cover him from head to toe, he has not cried out and his breathing appears to be even. Hook will not chance touching his arm but changed his soiled bandage with a flick of his wrist. The wound looked much the same as it did earlier, ragged and raw, still seeping blood and fluid.

He hears voices in the corridor and his heart leaps into his throat as they approach.

Garrett holds the arm of an ancient woman, she walks unsteadily into the room, her cane tapping on the wood floor as she moves toward the foot of the bed. Sophia carries a battered satchel and sets it on the desk. ‘Dark One, at last we meet!’ the witch says in a gravelly tone, and grins toothlessly at him. ‘I understand _your deckhand_ is in need of my help, and it seems this is true.’ She cackles.

‘Yes, he was bitten by a kraken and the poison still spreads. He was in tremendous pain but it has eased somewhat in the past hours, can you help him?’ Hook pleads, he is past the point of caring about how he is viewed and will beg on his knees if required.

‘It is a difficult potion, but yes I can cure him… payment is needed however,’ the witch looks at Hook with piercing eyes, ‘Fifty pieces of gold, a vial of your blood and a lock of your hair will satisfy.’

Hook’s brows furrow, ‘What could you want with such things?’ He asks

’That is my business. It is my price, do we have a deal or shall I return home?’ She replies slyly, ‘He will die before morning light if you do nothing.’

Hook is more than wary of her plans, but he has no other choice. He opens the wardrobe and counts out fifty pieces from his purse, ’The blood and hair when you have finished,’ he states firmly.

The crone nods and removes several items from her satchel then kneels by the fire. ‘Bring me a small kettle, some water, a sharp knife and a spoon,’ she orders. The ingredients go into a large mortar, she grinds them together with a stone pestle whist muttering under her breath. Hook supposes it is a spell of some kind, though he cannot hear her words. Sophia appears a moment later with the equipment she requested.

The witch moves to Jones bedside and glares at Hook, ‘Hold him still,’ she says then uncovers his wound and begins to cut into his damaged skin with the knife. The deckhand twists away and Hook lunges to stop her, ‘It must be done!’ She barks, ‘Would you like him to live? Then hold him still!’ Hook squeezes his eyes closed and waves his hand to paralyze his lover while the witch carves away what is needed and throws the bloody flesh into the pot. She adds water, the ground up dry mixture and a dash from several tinted bottles of liquid, the smell of them acrid enough to make one’s eyes water.

She sets the kettle in the fire, her hands seem impervious to the flames as she stirs. ’This must come to a boil, a glass of brandy in the meantime would not go amiss,’ she remarks.

Hook smashed the decanter on the desk along with the apothecary’s tools, he looks at Garrett who stands quietly by the door and the caretaker trots off to fetch the liquor from the library, he hurries back and hands a glass to the witch who promptly drinks it in one long gulp.

She stirs the potion as it heats and begins to chant _'Et tenebras Deus meus audi verba mea faciem tuam deprecabuntur incantationem. Hunc potionem meam salvum iacet ante remedium'_ repeating the words three times then sits back. ‘It is finished,’ she says and spoons the thick brown brew into her empty glass and offers it to Hook. He takes it from her and rushes to Jones’ side, gently lifting his head and pressing the glass to his lips. ‘You must drink this my sweet, it will make you better…’ but the deckhand will not open his mouth. Sofia joins Hook and brushes Jones' fingers, he winces and his lips part enough for Hook to pour the concoction inside.

———————

Jones’ hand stings again, the glow in the distance is gone but he sees movement at the corner of his eye and blinks several times trying to clear his vision. Two tiny green points of light dance together and rapidly grow larger as he watches; bigger and brighter until he must squint at their brilliance, he is bathed in the light, it pulses through him and when he opens his eyes again Hook’s smiling face is gazing back. This must be a dream it cannot be true… but he hears his voice and the touch of his hand. ‘Hook?’ He asks, ‘Are you real?’

Hook laughs and cries out with joy, ‘I am real my love, and you have returned to me!’ He bends to kiss Jones’ lips, he cannot wait another moment to taste them. ‘Oh the sweetness of you,’ he murmurs. ‘Rest for a moment, I must tend to some business,’ he grins and turns to the witch. ‘Take your price, you have earned it,’ he says and holds out his wrist. The sorceress slices through his skin with a craggy fingernail and siphons the blood that flows out into a small vial, then cuts a lock of hair from the back of his head with the knife.

She smiles darkly at him then slowly exits the room with Garrett, Sophia pats Hook’s shoulder ‘Sir, I will go now as well, I am very tired but so glad your young man is well again’ she winks at Jones and turns to leave but Hook stops her, ‘Please call me Hook, I am forever in your debt. I will not forget what you did for us, thank you Sophia.’

Hook returns to his love and removes the bandage, waving his hand over the bite with a beam of magic and this time his torn flesh closes, though a mark is left behind, he is healed. The deckhand flexes his hand and grins at Hook, reaching for him and pulling him into his arms, ‘I have missed you so much,’ he whispers.


	15. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook and Jones get reacquainted, and dark impulses haunt.

Now that they are alone again Hook snaps his fingers to shed his clothing and climbs onto the bed, yearning to feel his lover’s skin against his. The green vein-like branches have completely receded and the pain is only a terrible memory. They lay holding each other with no other thought than to be close for a moment, it has been a trying day to say the least. ‘I love you,’ Hook says simply, resting his head on the deckhand’s shoulder and closing his eyes to better hear his breathing, deep and even. He turns to kiss his neck, no straining tendons or clenched muscles, just relaxed and calm in each other’s arms.

‘And I love you,’ Jones whispers, ‘I feared I would be trapped in the dark forever, but somehow I knew you would save me… you are always there to save me,’ he says quietly.

‘Oh if that were only true my sweet, you should never have been in that predicament to begin with if not for me.’ Hook sighs and leans back to look into Jones’ eyes and appreciate his face, the prospect of losing the person you care about most, well, one sees the beauty of them tenfold when the danger has passed. Hook clutches at Jones’ squeezing him so tightly he grunts and laughs out loud.

‘My love I am well aware of the perils we face, I would have preferred it did not happen, but it  _did_  and you were there as you always are, so please do not fret,’ Jones answers and presses a kiss to Hook’s forehead. His lips travel down to his eyelids and cheekbones then finally his mouth, a chaste kiss that could easily become heated as they lay tangled together, naked and in love, but Hook angles away. ‘Are you hungry dearest?? It just occurred to me that you have not eaten in some time, and in truth neither have I. Let me fetch us a tray, we will sup together here and then you will rest.’ Jones nods in agreement, now that Hook has mentioned it, he is quite famished.

Hook grins then waves his hand and disappears in a cloud of red smoke.

———————

Jones contemplates the grueling hours of agony he spent in that frightening place, and wonders if he should tell his lover where he was and what happened. Perhaps tomorrow, Hook looks exhausted and he knows how worried he must have been, when Hook was damaged on the Jolly Roger his fear that he would not recover was nearly crippling. Emotional trauma can be just as tiring as physical pain. 

It seems the fauna have a vendetta against him, first the bird that sought to cause his death and now this giant squid. It is fortunate that he does not remember very much about the incident he supposes and flexes his shoulder absently, Hook healed him before he could see the wound, but he is certainly happy that his arm functions again, it is stiff but he hopes that will diminish in time.

Before he can reflect further, Hook appears with tray in hand and Jones sits up to study the selections. Tea and two bowls of hot stew with buttered bread, a sliced red apple, a warm lemon muffin and a small nosegay of daisies tied with a ribbon and set in a tiny bud vase. ‘Dinner is served my sweet! Or perhaps breakfast?! Dawn will break in a few hours I fear, but better late than never as the adage goes,’ Hook says cheerily, shaking out a napkin and placing it on the deckhand’s lap, ‘I chose tea in lieu of coffee, I feared it would keep you awake and you need restorative sleep, would a dash of brandy interest you?’

Jones grins from ear to ear at the care his companion has taken to prepare this feast, he removes one of the flowers and rolls the stem between his thumb and forefinger, its blossom spinning under his nose. Daisies are his favorite, he does not recall sharing this information with Hook but of course he knows. He watches him whilst he busies himself arranging the tray on the bed and nods in the affirmative, ’That would be lovely, thank you!’ Hook pours a splash of the amber liquid into each cup then holds his drink aloft, ‘Cheers my love,’ he says and they clink their cups together.

Jones digs into his bowl with gusto, Sofia has outdone herself. A simple beef stew but so fresh and vibrant with flavor, he must ask her for the recipe before they depart. His heart drops at the thought of leaving here despite the ordeal he has just endured, he will miss the magnificent grounds and the people he has met. It was a pleasant respite before the kraken attacked him, and it will continue to be now that he is cured. And, Hook appears to be in control of the darkness he muses, perhaps because he had no time to entertain it… he will have to make sure his love is occupied with other matters going forward. An idle brain is the devil’s workshop he thinks laughing to himself, they are both rich with idioms this night.

———————

When they have finished the stew Hook sets the tray aside and stretches out on the bed propped up on his elbow. Jones picks at the muffin whilst Hook nibbles the apple slices, ‘You read to me,’ Jones says softly, ‘When I was…  _away_ , you read poetry to me.’

Hook tilts his head curiously, ‘You could hear me?’ He asks

’No, not really _hear_  you. A verse forced its way into my mind while I lay there and I just knew.’ Jones looks down at his hand fidgeting with the blanket, a habit that he wishes he would stop but it happens without conscious effort. ‘I would only tell you that it made all the difference, I had nearly given up the ghost. It was your love that eased my torment and my fears.’ Jones looks up at Hook from under his eyebrows, ‘I will share more tomorrow if you wish to know, for now please understand that you and I… we… are all that matters. And we will win this fight together; our bond is stronger than any fiend who seeks to tear us apart.’

Hook silently clears away the last morsels of their meal and extinguishes the lamp then curls against Jones, ‘You speak with such conviction I have no choice but to believe it my love,’ he sighs, ‘But still, I am so sorry for your suffering,’ he laments, his voice cracks at the memory of Jones’ face screwed up in misery. Jones lifts his lover’s chin with his fingers and looks into his eyes, ‘As am I,’ he grins then begins to giggle, and Hook cannot help but laugh in response though in truth it was all very far from amusing. ’Sleep now, silly heart,’ Hook chuckles, ‘you have healing to do.’

Their bodies form spoons under the blanket, the deckhand relishes the warmth of his lover pressed against his back, his strong arms holding him tight. He closes his eyes and is asleep almost instantly.

———————

 _He is sinking. The undulated damp surface has come alive, enveloping him in its moist embrace, its mouth a gaping maw waiting to consume him. He struggles to climb out of the hole but is met with searing pain, his hand can no longer grip and his arm hangs useless at his side. Its teeth gnash in the darkness and a single red eye glares through him. ‘My love where are you?!' Jones screams, ‘Help me!!’ his arms and legs flail in the air, panicked and filled with dread, he cannot escape its jaws…_ ’Wake up love! I am here,’ Hook soothes, ‘You are safe now my dearest darling,’ he coos, his fingers combing through his companion’s hair. Hook is wrecked by his shouts, this poor sweet man has put on a brave face so convincing that even Hook was fooled.

Jones opens his eyes, the morning sun filters through the window lighting the bouquet of wildflowers that Hook placed on the bedside table. A wave a relief washes over him, he turns in his lover’s arms trembling uncontrollably, ‘Make love to me?’ he pleads and leans to capture Hook’s lips. ‘Oh my sweet,’ Hook murmurs, ‘You were very ill only a few hours ago… and now plagued by this nightmare, are you sure?’

‘Yes! Please?? I need you… I was so frightened and in so much pain, I want to feel pleasure, to feel you inside me,’ he whispers against Hook’s mouth, ‘I beg you, help me to replace these awful thoughts.’

‘My love, you need never beg for my physical attention, it is all I can do not to ravish you from dawn ’til dusk,’ Hook says softly, his hand caressing the small of Jones’ back. Their lips meet once again and the deckhand’s urgency is apparent; his tongue slips between Hook’s parted lips, swirling and tasting the soft recesses of his mouth, their lips lock together, desperate to lose themselves in sensation. Jones can feel Hook’s growing erection pressing into his thigh and reaches down to take him in hand, silky smooth yet rigid in want of him.

His fingers stroke firmly from base to tip, his hand moving up over its swollen head to grip and squeeze, he rubs his thumb across its opening, through the drops of wetness that have begun to leak out. Jones breaks the kiss to lick the fluid from his thumb, his eyelids half-closed as he savors its salty flavor. Hook groans at the sight, inflamed by Jones’ gesture, he does these things without thought, through innocent exploration, but it drives Hook to madness. His sex is like a steel rod, twitching with desire but the deckhand deserves more than a swift release, he must know how much he is loved, that he would gladly give his own life to ensure his continued safety and happiness.

He tenderly kisses the mark at Jones shoulder as if trying to erase it, then nudges him with the palm of his hand to turn onto his back. Hook bends to suck a brand on Jones’ neck, his hand gliding over his body, massaging his muscled chest covered with dark hair, sliding over his ribs to knead his firm abdomen, then moving between his legs and into the cleft of his cheeks. His fingers circle the puckered skin of his entrance and gently test its seal, dipping just inside then circling again.

The deckhand moans, his back arching at Hook’s arousing touch, he can feel himself dilate in anticipation but relaxes into the enjoyment of it, no other unwanted thoughts can intrude, it is just the two of them and their passion to satisfy. Hook’s mouth drifts to Jones’ jaw, nibbling along its edge then down his throat and over his breast to find his nipple; he sucks and bites at it gently at first, then harder and more forcefully, 'Does this please you?' Hook asks. ‘Gods yes,’ Jones mewls, his hand clutches handfuls of his Hook’s hair, pulling it to the brink of pain then releasing. Hook works until the pink flesh is a sensitive, swollen nub then shifts to attack the other, his fingers spark with magic, still teasing his opening then plunging inside.

Magic flows through Jones' body with a delicious thrilling surge, he gazes at Hook as he mauls his nipple, his thick eyelashes dusting his cheekbones, his brows furrowed with concentration and sighs at what a splendid man he is. 'I must taste you,' he says suddenly and moves to angle in the opposite direction, he glances shyly at Hook then hungrily takes him in his mouth and Hook wastes no time in doing the same. They lay head to foot, greedily working up and down the hardened lengths of the other, their hands fondling, their fingernails scratching. 

Hook swallows him whole, gulping and humming, Jones’ hips buck involuntarily as Hook’s teeth drag and press, his tongue following after to soothe his flesh. Jones glances down and watches as he disappears into Hook's mouth, enraptured by the feel of his lips on him, performing acts designed only for his pleasure and taking all of his likes into account. Hook knows he is watching and he gazes back, his eyes hooded with love and lust, it is an erotic moment between them as they pleasure each other.

Jones is close and would have his lover inside him before he falls. He releases Hook gently then tilts his head at him and rolls onto his hands and knees, he looks over his shoulder at his partner who needs no further invitation to position his body behind. Jones reaches back to grasp his cheek and spread himself wide as Hook guides his throbbing thickness to the deckhand’s opening, rubbing his tip across and around and then with a quick thrust he slips inside, the muscle stretches open then clamps around him. 

Jones cranes his neck back as Hook enters him, grimacing at the exquisite pain then relaxing to fully receive him; he is quite well endowed to be sure and he knows it, he is always careful not to rush. Hook eases inside slowly despite his urge to wildly drive forward, it takes all of his will not to spill out, the fit is so tight, but he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw, pushing in gradually then withdrawing, pushing and withdrawing until he is buried deep.

Jones is overcome with emotion, this feeling of wholeness that he always experiences when they make love brings tears to his eyes. He is adrift without Hook, joined together he is complete. Hook leans down and drapes himself over Jones’ back, reaching to turn his head with his hand so he might kiss him whilst he moves inside, Jones expression is radiant, euphoric with pleasure; their tongues lick and glide as Hook’s hips swivel and grind relentlessly, beads of sweat form on his brow as he pistons into his lover. His arm circles Jones waist to grasp his thickness, tugging and pumping until Jones gasps out his name.

‘I would see your face’ Hook says then stops his movements just long enough for the deckhand to roll onto his back. Hook maneuvers between his legs, Jones pulls his knees to his chest and Hook drives inside again, thrusting faster and faster until sweat drips from his forehead. Jones is panting and breathless, his hand stroking himself in sync with Hook's rhythm, their eyes fixed on one another until Hook feels the first ripples of Jones’ climax. 

The deckhand clenches his muscles and squeezes his eyes tightly closed, his lips draw back over his teeth as his orgasm overtakes him; 'I love you!' he cries, spurting his release onto his stomach in shivering, pulsing waves. Hook falls a moment later and comes with a grunting, keening wail; his body straining as he empties inside his lover, his movements slow until he is finally finished. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand his chest heaving with exertion, then smiles and collapses into Jones' arms.

Hook waves away the evidence of their sex, their breathing and the sound of soft kisses are the only noises that can be heard for some time after

———————

They hold each other face to face, basking in the glow of their lovemaking, Hook hesitates to broach the subject but he is concerned and perhaps Jones needs an outlet besides the type they just shared. ’Do you wish to talk about your nightmare?’ Hook asks as he brushes away a lock of hair from Jones’ forehead, ‘It seems that you were not simply unconscious, I would hear more if you desire to tell it.’

'A monster with a single red eye had plans to devour me, I was drawn inexorably toward its mouth and knew if I could not escape I would die,’ he explains, 'The dream was strange but the reality was far worse,' the deckhand swallows and closes his eyes, and his story comes tumbling out, ‘It was black as pitch though there was faint light at times,’ he says quietly, ‘I called out for you over and over again but you did not answer.’ Jones wraps his arms around Hook and rests his head against his chest, ’I was dizzy and nauseated, the pain in my arm was excruciating, incapacitating, and horrible thoughts and images invaded my mind; that it is wrong for us to be together, that you had given up and were not coming to save me,’ he continues. 

‘It was not until the verse from  _The Cloud_ came into focus that I was certain you still searched. I did not know where you were but colored lights on the horizon comforted me as I lay in that dank place… and then I was bathed in light and I opened my eyes and saw your face, you pulled me from that hell and your smile… it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen,' he says finally.

Hook listened without response as Jones spoke until the tale was finished, his face a mask of worry and regret, but now it is done and he will answer. ‘Look at me my love,’ Jones tentatively lifts his head, his eyes glistening with tears. Hook cups his cheek with his palm and says firmly ‘Know this my sweet, I would  _never,_  not for  _any_  reason stop searching for you or seeking to save you. You are the light in the darkness for me as well,  _you are the love of my life!_  And I would move the heavens and the earth to find you, never doubt it. The kraken’s poison instilled these thoughts and feelings, our love is perfect and pure and I will do  _anything_  and  _everything_  to keep it.’

Jones sniffles and nods, his lips curl into a tremulous grin. Hook smiles back and ruffles his hair, ‘I have an idea,’ he says.

‘I suggest we stay in bed today my sweet, how would that suit? Or at least for several more hours. I have no desire to face the day, your presence beside me is all that I wish for,’ Hook says, threading his fingers between Jones’, ‘I will fetch us coffee and the local news, and we will luxuriate in loafing, I believe we have earned it,’ he remarks.

‘Yes, perhaps inside  _is_  the safest place, though I do long for a bath…’ the deckhand comments with a wink, ‘but let us have coffee first... With cream... And another muffin... Warmed... With butter... And some blackberry jam,’ he says laughing at Hook’s pained expression, ‘Anything else my sweet?’ Hook replies dryly.

‘No. That is all.’

More giggles.

Hook slaps his love playfully on the rump and disappears to fulfill his orders.

———————

Jones stretches like a cat and nearly purrs like one as well, he feels loved and well satisfied, his body pleasantly warmed by their activities. He gets up and walks to the wardrobe to retrieve Hook’s robe,  _his robe_ , and slips it on, enjoying the softness of the silk against his bare skin. He looks about the room, sees the stains on the wall and the broken glass on the floor beside the desk and wonders what happened to cause it, he will ask Hook and fetch a broom after breakfast. 

It is raining outside, mist rises on the hills at the north end of the house, the mountains are obscured by the haze. It does not look to be a good day for an outing, and after the dramatics of yesterday, he, like his partner, is inclined to stay in bed.

Hook returns with coffee and cream, muffins warmed with butter and jam, and the  _Daily Gazette_  folded and tucked under his arm. He sets the tray on the bed and hands the paper to Jones. ’Tell us what mischief the Garcia’s goat has gotten into this time,’ he says brightly, leaning back against the headboard. The deckhand arranges the pillows and crawls into bed, takes a bite of muffin and a sip of coffee before perusing the paper.

He scans the page searching for a story of interest, his brows knit together as he begins to read ‘Doctor tells a tale of abuse at the hands of landowner Captain Hook,’ Jones says aloud glancing at his lover who promptly buries his face in his hand, ‘Doctor Fleming, a long time resident, along with his daughter Anne, were accosted at the home of the well-known sea Captain. “I went out of my way to respond to an urgent request for a house call,” the Doctor said, “the Captain’s  _friend_  was ill, had been poisoned though his explanation regarding the source of said poison was unbelievable at best, a bald-faced lie at worst. We attempted to cure the man but were met by an infuriated monster, he was evil incarnate!”’

Hook opens his mouth to speak in his own defense, but Jones holds up his hand to stop him and continues reading, ‘Doctor Fleming claims Anne was manhandled by Hook, and he used some kind of  _magical power_  to try and choke the life from him. “If not for my beautiful and courageous daughter coming to my aid, I would not be standing here now.” Local authorities have yet to comment and so far have not pursued charges against the Captain. Rumors have long circulated about the true nature of the wealthy man, it is suspected that fear of reprisals prevent them from questioning him…’

Jones quietly folds the paper and sets it aside then turns to look at Hook, dismayed and disappointed at his behavior. ‘Would you tell me if there is any truth to this story?’ he asks, ‘I saw the broken glass by the desk, is this the reason why?’

Hook sighs heavily, ashamed that he resorted to physical violence, ‘Yes, it is true. But it was  _you_  who stopped me from committing murder, not his daughter,’ Hook exclaims. ’They bled you, the  _cure_  was killing you! I could see it clearly… and I lost my temper. I am sorry my sweet,’ he says chagrined.

‘It is not me who deserves an apology, though the man essentially called you a liar and that raises my hackles, I know the truth of course. You stopped before any permanent harm was done, but you must attempt to control yourself! Now every person in town is talking about  _you_ , your  _magic_  and  _me!_  We should be leaving here to resume our mission but you must make amends, and I do not know at this moment how on earth to rectify the situation.’ Jones rakes his hand through his hair, ‘I understand why you were angry, and I love you unconditionally, but your reputation is at stake. When the darkness is gone, and it will be someday, I would live here and not be forced to seek out another residence.’

‘You are right I suppose,’ Hook grudgingly concedes, ‘Let us finish eating and bathe then we will discuss it further.’


	16. Repentance and resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hook must face up to his error in judgement and realizes along the way that there is often more to the story than meets the eye.

Hook looks wistfully at Jones' nude reflection in the mirror whilst he dresses, and ponders what a shame it is that he must cover his body with cloth; his skin fresh and clean from their bath should be proudly displayed, he has a glorious physique, muscled and lean... the curve of his back is what dreams are made of. His companion was quiet throughout their ablutions, lost in contemplation or possibly irritation, his silence most likely by design. He does regret his rash actions, but only for their consequences and how they affect his love. Dr. Martin Fleming deserved to be strangled for his ill-advised treatment of Jones; he will not say so aloud, but he will think it. As for manhandling his daughter, well, he should not have done so. He was angry but there is no excuse, she was merely following the direction of a physician whom she presumed to know the best course.

Hook has seen more than one death by this method, sailors so weakened by blood loss they could not recover; painful and unnecessary deaths caused by stupidity and arrogance. He was livid at the sight of his lover blanched and bleeding into that basin, and he very nearly ended the doctor’s life, but he stepped back from the abyss. Jones has changed his heart on that account, facing his disappointment would be too much to bear. Perhaps one day he will see the error of his ways on his own, for now Jones helps him move toward the light.

Jones sniffs the air as he buttons his vest, savoring the wafting smell of meat roasting on the spit. He grins at Hook then trots off in its fragrant direction and skips into the kitchen to find Sophia as suspected, muttering to herself with spoon in hand. She turns toward the sound of his footsteps on the wooden floor and sees him there by the door grinning sheepishly, his cheeks rosy from scrubbing.

‘Master Jones!! Look at you!!’ She squeals setting the utensil aside and hurrying to throw her arms around him. He smiles brilliantly and hugs her back, his arms cannot quite circle her round form, his chest is pressed against two very large breasts that jiggle when she laughs. She smells like cinnamon and cooking oil and he grins at the touch of her hand gliding fondly over his hair. When she finally releases him his cheeks are even redder than before, he scuffs his toe and looks at his feet, blushing with embarrassment.

‘You are up and about, and so dashing!’ She chortles, ‘I was terribly afraid when I heard you were ill, but you seem to be in fine fettle now!’

He looks up at her, his face solemn and serious, ’Yes, yesterday was a blur but I understand you were instrumental in my recovery… thank you Sophia,’ Jones says sincerely.

‘You are very welcome dear, your Captain was beside himself with worry. I am grateful that La hechicera was able to cure you… let us hope the price does not come back to haunt, she is a strange and powerful woman but has helped many including my husband,’ she replies.

‘The price? What price?!? Hook did not tell me…’ Jones frowns and is suddenly fearful, he can see the look of trepidation on the cook’s face, she inadvertently shared information that Hook chose not to divulge. He will not press her for more details but will certainly ask his companion later this eve. ‘No matter,’ he says brightly, 'it is marvelous to see you! I am afraid we must be off soon, but I was wondering if you might help me with two requests, the first would be the recipe for the delicious stew you prepared,’ he asks smiling at her proud expression, ‘and the second… tell me what you know about Dr. Fleming.’

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Hook sits by the fire wracking his brain about how to remedy the mess he has made, Jones is insisting he apologize to the doctor and it grates him to think of it. The days here have passed in a blink of an eye, their carriage was scheduled to retrieve them and take them to the docks near sunset, but at Jones’ prodding he asked Garrett to arrange for transportation into town this afternoon instead. They will meet with the Doctor and his daughter at their home, what will come of it remains to be seen. Perhaps he will be arrested. He chuckles at that thought, they may try but will not succeed. 

He would be sorry to leave the memories of this place behind though not all have been pleasant, he has shared many tender moments here with Jones. But there are other houses and other towns, they will move on to a new adventure if resolution cannot be found.

Jones saunters into the living room with a strange look on his face, he stops at the well-worn liquor cart in the corner of the room to pour them both a glass of brandy. He walks over to Hook, hands him his drink then plops down beside him on the sofa. ‘Hello my sweet,’ Hook says, ‘You conversed with Sophia earlier this morning, is she well? What did you speak of?’ He asks innocently. ‘Oh, this and that, nothing really,’ Jones answers. 

He knows what Hook is doing, his transparent prying to discover if he now knows the terms of his deal with the witch are obvious, but he will not placate him. He sips his brandy, grimacing at the burn, ’She gave me her recipe for stew. I shall attempt to replicate it when we sail, but I fear it will pale in comparison.’

’Somehow I doubt that my love, you are an excellent cook. Only one of the many reasons why I love you so much, a tasty meal created by a handsome lad does much to provide a happy existence,’ he says and leans to kiss him on the cheek but Jones turns his face to meet his soft lips instead. 

They lounge in the warmth of the fire, drinking and talking about the next leg of their journey. Now that the hour of departure grows near they are both anxious to march toward their goal. It is late in the year, the waters near Acela’s island will be treacherous and extremely cold, they must brace themselves for the weather. Fortunately Garrett has taken care of restocking the Jolly Roger with foodstuffs along with additional blankets and warm clothing for Jones. She is ready to sail when they are.

————————

A bell chimes from the kitchen to signal lunch is ready to serve, ’Sophia has prepared us a light repast, shall we eat? Jones asks, ‘The carriage will arrive soon.’

Hook would transport them to town with magic were he not concerned it would engender additional gossip. He would prefer that Jones did not have to travel past the lake again, but it cannot be helped.

‘Yes love, let us sustain ourselves for the humbling ahead,’ Hook grumbles as they walk toward the dining room.

Roasted chicken with freshly baked baked rolls, greens and hominy awaits them, ’This is a meal fit for a king,’ Hook remarks winking at the cook. 

’Do you require anything else Sir… my apologies, Hook?’ She asks, then continues excitedly ‘Oh, I have coffee for Master Jones! Would you care for a cup as well?’ Hook arches an eyebrow and glances sideways at Jones, ’That would be delightful,’ he replies. ‘One moment,’ she says whirling on her heel with her index finger pointed at the ceiling and hurries back to the kitchen to fetch two cups.

 _‘Master Jones?’_  Hook whispers with a wry smile on his lips. Jones waves him off, ‘Behave yourself,’ he quips as Sophia returns with the coffee. ’Thank you!' he exclaims, 'would you conjure some cream for me my love? I have developed a taste for it.'

Hook waves his hand and a small pitcher appears on the table in front of them. ‘I am not thrilled at the prospect of begging for forgiveness from that lout,’ he crabs sullenly whilst buttering his bread. 

‘I am sorry to hear it but you will go just the same. Now may I enjoy my food?!’ Jones huffs. Hook continues to moan and grouse under his breath but the deckhand pays him no mind.

They have barely finished lunch when Garrett appears to announce that the carriage has arrived. Hook wipes his mouth and rolls his eyes then pushes himself back from the table. Jones cannot help but giggle at his crankiness, he has no one to blame but himself, but he is satisfied that by the end of the day all will be well.

‘You should have the dagger with you,’ Hook says matter-of-factly, ‘You must accustom yourself to keeping it on your person. I feel fine at this minute but it is not worth the risk.’ Jones brows knit together, he had nearly forgotten that it existed. He nods and runs to retrieve it from the library and attaches it to his belt. He does not yet know exactly how it functions, it feels strange to be in possession of a device that can control his love. He must be careful not to unwittingly order him about and will speak only as necessary during their visit with the doctor.

————————

They climb into the carriage and ride wordlessly toward the home of Dr.Fleming and his daughter Anne, they were kind enough to grant this audience and Jones is not sure if he would do the same were he in the doctor’s shoes; he took advantage of the situation with his very public complaint, but Hook was wrong to react violently and it must be addressed. 

The horses clip clop down the narrow lane and the deckhand busies himself pulling at an errant thread on his vest as they roll past the lake. Hook notices this of course but does not comment, inwardly however, he is enraged that his love would be frightened of such a lovely place, one that he was so eager to visit when they first arrived. That bastard kraken, he would tear it to shreds if he could.

A quarter of an hour later they arrive at 10 Mendoza Street, and Hook is slightly taken aback by the modest home the physician resides in, by his lofty manner he imagined a castle on a hill. It is well kept and painted a cheerful shade of yellow, Anne is tending to a young boy who sits in the shade of a large maple tree. She turns to greet them as they approach, shading her eyes from the sun, 

‘Hello again Captain,’ she says politely enough, but her eyes tell a different story, ‘and Mr. Jones, I am glad to see you have recovered. This is my brother Thomas,’ she says gesturing toward the boy. ‘Good afternoon Anne, nice to meet you Thomas,’ Hook says.

‘Are you a pirate??’ Thomas asks gleefully. ‘The most fearsome pirate on the seven seas!’ Hook answers with a devilish grin. Thomas claps his hands with joy at meeting a real pirate. The boy looks to be 8 years old or thereabouts and is pale and painfully thin.

‘Father is inside,’ Anne says waving her hand toward the door. ‘Come darling, let us go into the house, these gentlemen have come to converse with us, we will play another game later the evening,’ she says sweetly. Thomas reaches for the crutches that lean against the chair beside him and hops up on one foot, the other leg is twisted and misshapen and apparently cannot support his weight, but he is quick and agile enough with his crutches.

He scampers alongside them firing questions at Hook, ‘Have you fought many battles? Do you have a pirate ship and if you do may I see her?’ He asks excitedly, ‘Too many to count and yes I do! Her name is  _the Jolly Roger_  and she floats in the bay as we speak. Mr. Jones and I plan to sail away this evening, but I believe we could find time for you to see her if your father agrees,’ Hook offers.

The boy looks to be cheerful enough, but he has a soft place for those who have experienced such an injury, he is quite familiar with the trauma that comes with loss of limb; and Thomas reminds him so much of himself when he was a lad, before his father's unthinkable betrayal ripped his world apart. High-spirited and inquisitive, a charming naivety. Despite whatever obstacles blocked his path, he was determined to overcome them. And this endearing boy looking up at him with such undeserved admiration, well, if he can brighten his reality for an hour then it is the least he can do. There is no question that Jones fully supports the idea, his smile and the sparkle in his eye tells him all he needs to know.

‘Oh Anne do you think he will say yes??  _Please_  make him say yes,’ Thomas pleads tugging on her skirt. ‘We will see,’ she says as they enter the house, ’Now go find something to do darling, we have things to discuss. I will fetch you when the Captain is ready to leave.’

Jones’ heart melts watching this exchange, Hook is as wonderful with children as he knew he would be. Sophia explained earlier what had happened to Thomas, he and his mother were riding to town in their buggy when the horses were somehow spooked and galloped out of control. The buggy overturned and Thomas was run over by an oncoming carriage, he barely survived; his mother was thrown and hit her head, she died a few days later. Martin was devastated by her loss and hardened by it, he did all he could for his boy but his leg was mangled in the accident and no surgery could help it.

Dr. Fleming enters the room and looks down his nose at them both. ’Thomas is a fine boy,’ Hook remarks and Jones perceives the slightest softening in the doctor’s expression, ‘Yes, he is a good lad… you requested this meeting, I presume you saw the story in the  _Gazette_? What do you have to say in reply?’ he asks curtly. ‘Yes, we did see it, but that is not the reason why we are here… rather it is not the  _only_ reason why. I wish to apologize for my behavior, for my rough handling of Anne and for what I did to you. I hope there was no lasting harm. I acted out rashly in anger and worry for my companion, my fear for his wellbeing was so great I was not thinking rationally. You have a beautiful family who need you and I was terribly wrong to lash out the way I did. I am truly sorry and I ask for your forgiveness.’ Hook says earnestly.

The doctor contemplates Hook’s words for a moment then nods brusquely at him, ‘I accept your apology Captain, I was exceedingly angry myself, but I very much understand the strain when a loved one is hurt or ill. I am relieved to see you discovered a cure for your friend. How, may I ask, did you do it?’

‘We called on the sorceress, it was the only way,’ Hook answers. Dr. Fleming raises an eyebrow and glances at Anne but inquires no further on the subject. ‘Are you content as well my dear?’ He asks her. ‘Yes, I will forgive you with one condition,’ she replies then turns toward her father, ’The Captain has offered to show Thomas his ship and he is desperate to see it. If you will allow it, that will satisfy me.’

‘Oh  _please_  father,  _please_  let me go!!’ Thomas chimes in from the next room, then appears a moment later, ‘A  _real_  pirate ship father! And a  _real_  pirate! You  _must_  let me, they are leaving tonight and I might not have another chance!!’ He begs. The doctor sighs heavily not at all liking the spot he finds himself in, but he is loathe to disappoint Thomas after all that he has endured and eventually concedes, ‘Alright, I will allow it,’ he sighs. 

‘Hurray, hurray!!’ Thomas shouts and nearly topples over in his excitement, Hook reaches out swiftly with a gentle hand to steady him before he falls. ’Thank you for seeing us,’ Hook says then bows in Anne’s direction, ‘We will take up no more of your time. Would 6 o’clock at the docks suit?’ he proposes. ‘That will be fine,’ Dr. Fleming answers with a much more conciliatory tone.

Hook squats down on his haunches, his face level with the boy’s pleased countenance, ’Aye Thomas ‘ye landlubber, prepare yerself!’ Hook declares ruffling the boy’s hair, his voice a caricature. ‘It was lovely to meet you all, we will see you later then,’ Jones says shyly and they exit the house.

The deckhand smiles to himself as they bump along the road home, ‘I am proud of you my love, your speech was perfect.’

’It produced the desired effect but the population is none the wiser, perhaps they will forgive over time,’ Hook remarks. ‘At any rate we must pack our things and ready ourselves. It has only been three days but it feels like far longer, do you suppose I will remember how to sail?’ Jones giggles in response, ‘If you do not, I will remind you.’

————————

They have already said their goodbyes to the cook and the caretaker, Sophia tearily presented Jones with a basket of muffins, Apple cinnamon this time; he will miss her kindness and her rumbling laugh. Garrett assured them that all will be looked after until they return, Hook apologized to him for his poor behavior the day before and thanked him for his good service.

Now all that remains is to make sure nothing is left behind. Jones surveys the bedroom, his new old robe is tucked away in their trunk along with a selection of books to pass the time. He hopes there will be a few moments of peace for reading and other activities he is fond of, his eyes discreetly rake over the gorgeous man across the room. ’Well my sweet, what say you?’ Hook asks, Jones shrugs his shoulders and nods, ’Let us be off then, we must say farewell to this place for now.’ He waves his hand and the trunk disappears, another flick of his wrist and the violin case is gone.

Hook is finished with carriages. They are leaving now and there is no point in pretending he is anyone other than who he is. He touches Jones’ sleeve and in an instant they appear at the docks. A few minutes later Dr. Fleming and his family roll up, Anne helps Thomas exit from their buggy and he hops enthusiastically toward Hook, his crutches barely touching the ground. Hook stands with his hands on his hips looking down at the frail boy, ‘Aha, our new Swabbie has arrived!’ he grins then glances at the doctor, ‘I will have him back in an hour,’ he promises.

‘Come Thomas, touch my coat!’ the boy looks back at his father and sister then reaches out to grasp the leather of his duster, Jones takes hold of Hook’s elbow and all three of them disappear in a cloud of red smoke. Dr. Fleming and Anne are agape at the sight, and run to the end of the dock searching for movement on the deck of the ship.

Thomas is exuberant, thrilled by their method of travel, ’You are a pirate  _and_  you have magic??’ He gasps. ‘Yes indeed Swabbie! And speaking of which, I would like to try something before we show you our beautiful lady,’ Hook says, 

‘What is it you wish to try? Thomas asks curiously.

’It is a surprise! Whilst pirates are notoriously untrustworthy chaps,' he laughs, 'I trust Mr. Jones with my life, he has my every confidence and will watch over you until all is revealed. Sit here on the deck and be still, I will not hurt you,’ Hook directs. 

Thomas looks up at Jones who winks in return then dutifully sits and Hook kneels beside him, ‘Now close your eyes and imagine running through a green meadow,’ he says and waves his hand over Thomas’ damaged limb, a beam of healing magic begins to work at the muscle and bone. ‘There are birds and rabbits and a dog runs beside you.’ 

Jones can see the leg gradually untwist and he is moved beyond words. He chokes back tears and is on the verge of sobbing, his hand unconsciously flutters to rest over his heart. ‘Do not open your eyes yet… can you see the dog Thomas? What color is it?’ Hook asks as he moves his palm toward the boy’s hip. ‘It is black like your coat, it is a pirate’s dog!’ He says laughing, ‘My leg feels strange, may I open my eyes now?’

’Yes Swabbie, open your eyes.’

Thomas opens one eye to peek at his leg and it looks different now, straight and the same length as the other one. Hook helps him to his feet, ‘How does it feel? Can you walk on it? Hold my hand and try,’ he says. Thomas takes a tentative step forward and then another, he walks slowly along the rail at Hook’s side, clutching his hand.

’Now try to walk without holding on.’

Thomas lets go and walks a few steps then bounces ahead a few more, and soon he is running circles from bow to stern giggling wildly. Jones slips his arm around Hook’s waist and looks at him as if he were an angel on earth. 

‘Swabbie! Come here!’ Hook commands, and Thomas skips over to him. ‘How did you fix me?!’ He asks, his eyes filled with wonder and joy. ‘With magic my boy! It does come in handy from time to time.’

Hook gestures and a thousand points of light fill the air illuminating the ship. ’And now for the tour!’

They show Thomas everything there is to see, the deck and the ship’s wheel and compass, their cabin, the ship’s mess, the hold and the crew sleeping quarters. Hook even takes him aloft to the crow's nest to see the rigging and the sheets up close whilst explaining basic sailing terminology. ‘So, Swabbie, what do you think of her?’ he asks when they have finished. ’She is wonderful! A _real_ pirate ship!!’ Thomas exclaims, ’This is the  _best_  day of my whole life!’

‘Well Thomas, unfortunately all good things must come to an end and now we must send you to your father and sister… but, when we return I promise to take you sailing, if your father consents of course.’

Thomas claps with glee, ’Truly? Oh please,  _please_  hurry back!’

’Truly. I swear it upon my black heart,’ Hook chuckles, ‘We will be back before you know it, and you will be occupied running and playing in the meantime,’ Hook assures him then hands him his crutches, ‘You no longer need these but another boy might, give them to your father.’ Thomas smiles brilliantly and hugs them both, ’Thank you Captain, thank you Mr. Jones!!' He cries, his face radiant with happiness. Hook slips three gold coins into the tiny pocket of the boy’s vest, ’Pirate treasure, spend it wisely! Until the next time mate,’ Hook smiles and waves his hand transporting Thomas to the shore and into his father’s arms.

Jones leans in for a kiss and they linger for a moment, holding each other close. Hook gazes at Jones and says quietly, ‘You engineered all of this, I can see it in your eyes... Let us make sail, my sweet.’


End file.
